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 +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Inconsistent hyphenation matches the original document. | | | | A number of obvious typographical errors have been corrected | | in this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of | | this document. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+

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THEICE-MAIDEN:AND OTHER TALES. 

ByHANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 

TRANSLATEDByFANNY FULLER

PHILADELPHIA: F. LEYPOLDT. 1863. 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, byF. LEYPOLDT, In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States inand for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 

PRINTED BY KING & BAIRD. 

CONTENTS. 

 Page

THE ICE-MAIDEN 7

THE BUTTERFLY 139

THE PSYCHE 149

THE SNAIL AND THE ROSE-TREE 183

The Ice-Maiden. 

I. 

LITTLE RUDY. 

Let us visit Switzerland and look around us in the glorious country ofmountains, where the forest rises out of steep rocky walls; let usascend to the dazzling snow-fields, and thence descend to the greenplains, where the rivulets and brooks hasten away, foaming up, as ifthey feared not to vanish, as they reached the sea. 

The sun beams upon the deep valley, it burns also upon the heavymasses of snow; so that after the lapse of years, they melt intoshining ice-blocks, and become rolling avalanches and heaped-upglaciers. 

Two of these lie in the broad clefts of the rock, under theSchreckhorn and Wetterhorn, near the little town of Grindelwald. Theyare so remarkable that many strangers come to gaze at them, in thesummer time, from all parts of the world; they come over the highsnow-covered mountains, they come from the deepest valleys, and theyare obliged to ascend during many hours, and as they ascend, thevalley sinks deeper and deeper, as though seen from an air-balloon. 

Far around the peaks of the mountains, the clouds often hang likeheavy curtains of smoke; whilst down in the valley, where the manybrown wooden houses lie scattered about, a sun-beam shines, and hereand there brings out a tiny spot, in radiant green, as though it weretransparent. The water roars, froths and foams below, the water humsand tinkles above, and it looks as if silver ribbons were flutteringover the cliffs. 

On each side of the way, as one ascends, are wooden houses; each househas a little potato-garden, and that is a necessity, for in thedoor-way are many little mouths. There are plenty of children, andthey can consume abundance of food; they rush out of the houses, andthrong about the travellers, come they on foot or in carriage. Thewhole horde of children traffic; the little ones offer prettily carvedwooden houses, for sale, similar to those they build on the mountains. Rain or shine, the children assemble with their wares. 

Some twenty years ago, there stood here, several times, a little boy, who wished to sell his toys, but he always kept aloof from the otherchildren; he stood with serious countenance and with both handstightly clasped around his wooden box, as if he feared it would slipaway from him; but on account of this gravity, and because the boy wasso small, it caused him to be remarked, and often he made the bestbargain, without knowing why. His grandfather lived still higher inthe mountains, and it was he who carved the pretty wooden houses. There stood in the room, an old cup-board, full of carvings; therewere nut-crackers, knives, spoons, and boxes with delicate foliage, and leaping chamois; there was everything, which could rejoice a merrychild's eye, but this little fellow, (he was named Rudy) looked at anddesired only the old gun under the rafters. His grandfather had said, that he should have it some day, but that he must first grow big andstrong enough to use it. 

Small as the boy was, he was obliged to take care of the goats, and ifhe who can climb with them is a good guardian, well then indeed wasRudy. Why he climbed even higher than they! He loved to take thebird's nests from the trees, high in the air, for he was bold anddaring; and he only smiled when he stood by the roaring water-fall, orwhen he heard a rolling avalanche. 

He never played with the other children; he only met them, when hisgrandfather sent him out to sell his carvings, and Rudy took butlittle interest in this; he much preferred to wander about the rocks, or to sit and listen to his grandfather relate about old times andabout the inhabitants of Meiringen, where he came from. He said thatthese people had not been there since the beginning of the world; theyhad come from the far North, where the race called Swedes, dwelt. Toknow this, was indeed great wisdom, and Rudy knew this; but he becamestill wiser, through the intercourse which he had with the otheroccupants of the house--belonging to the animal race. There was alarge dog, Ajola, an heir-loom from Rudy's father; and a cat, and shewas of great importance to Rudy, for she had taught him to climb. "Come out on the roof!" said the cat, quite plain and distinctly, forwhen one is a child, and can not yet speak, one understands the hensand ducks, the cats and dogs remarkably well; they speak for us asintelligibly as father or mother. One needs but to be little, and theneven grandfather's stick can neigh, and become a horse, with head, legs and tail. With some children, this knowledge slips away laterthan with others, and people say of these, that they are verybackward, that they remain children fearfully long. --People say somany things!

"Come with me, little Rudy, out on the roof!" was about the firstthing that the cat said, that Rudy understood. "It is all imaginationabout falling; one does not fall, when one does not fear to do so. Come, place your one paw so, and your other so! Take care of yourfore-paws! Look sharp with your eyes, and give suppleness to yourlimbs! If there be a hole, jump, hold fast, that's the way I do!"

And Rudy did so, and that was the reason that he sat out on the roofwith the cat so often; he sat with her in the tree-tops, yes, he saton the edge of the rocks, where the cats could not come. "Higher, higher!" said the trees and bushes. "See, how we climb! how high wego, how firm we hold on, even on the outermost peaks of the rocks!"

And Rudy went generally on the mountain before the sun rose, and thenhe got his morning drink, the fresh, strengthening mountain air, thedrink, that our Lord only can prepare, and men can read its recipe, and thus it stands written: "the fresh scent of the herbs of themountains and the mint and thyme of the valleys. "

All heaviness is imbibed by the hanging clouds, and the wind sends itout like grape-shot into the fir-woods; the fragrant breeze becomesperfume, light and fresh and ever fresher--that was Rudy's morningdrink. 

The blessing bringing daughters of the Sun, the sun-beams, kissed hischeeks, and Vertigo stood and watched, but dared not approach him; andthe swallows below from grandfather's house, where there were no lessthan seven nests, flew up to him and the goats, and they sang: "We andyou! and you and we!" They brought greetings from home, even from thetwo hens, the only birds in the room; with whom however Rudy never hadintercourse. 

Little as he was, he had traveled, and not a little, for so small aboy; he was born in the Canton Valais, and had been carried from thereover the mountains. Lately he had visited the Staubbach, which wavesin the air like a silver gauze, before the snow decked, dazzling whitemountain: "the Jungfrau. " And he had been in Grindelwald, near thegreat glaciers; but that was a sad story. There, his mother had foundher death, and, "little Rudy, " so said his grandfather, "had lost hischildish merriment. " "When the boy was not a year old, he laughed morethan he cried, " so wrote his mother, "but since he was in theice-gap, quite another mind has come over him. " His grand-father didnot like to speak on the subject, but every one on the mountain knewall about it. 

Rudy's father had been a postilion, and the large dog in the room, hadalways followed him on his journeys to the lake of Geneva, over theSimplon. In the valley of the Rhone, in Canton Valais, still livedRudy's family, on his father's side, and his father's brother was afamous chamois hunter and a well-known guide. Rudy was only a yearold, when he lost his father, and his mother longed to return to herrelations in Berner Oberlande. Her father lived a few hours walk fromGrindelwald; he was a carver in wood, and earned enough by it to live. In the month of June, carrying her little child, she startedhomewards, accompanied by two chamois hunters; intending to cross theGemmi on their way to Grindelwald. They already had accomplished thelonger part of their journey, had passed the high ridges, had come tothe snow-plains, they already saw the valley of their home, with itswell-known wooden houses, and had now but to reach the summit of oneof the great glaciers. The snow had freshly fallen and concealed acleft, --which did not lead to the deepest abyss, where the waterroared--but still deeper than man could reach. The young woman, whowas holding her child, slipped, sank and was gone; one heard no cry, no sigh, nought but a little child weeping. More than an hour elapsed, before her companions could bring poles and ropes, from the nearesthouse, in order to afford assistance. After great exertion they drewfrom the ice-gap, what appeared to be two lifeless bodies; everymeans were employed and they succeeded in calling the child back tolife, but not the mother. So the old grandfather received instead of adaughter, a daughter's son in his house; the little one, who laughedmore than he wept, but, who now, seemed to have lost this custom. Achange in him, had certainly taken place, in the cleft of the glacier, in the wonderful cold world; where, according to the belief of theSwiss peasant, the souls of the damned are incarcerated until the dayof judgment. 

Not unlike water, which after long journeying, has been compressed intoblocks of green glass, the glaciers lie here, so that one huge mass ofice is heaped on the other. The rushing stream roars below and meltssnow and ice; within, hollow caverns and mighty clefts open, this is awonderful palace of ice, and in it dwells the Ice-Maiden, the Queen ofthe glaciers. She, the murderess, the destroyer, is half a child of airand half the powerful ruler of the streams; therefore, she had receivedthe power, to elevate herself with the speed of the chamois to thehighest pinnacle of the snow-topped mountain; where the most daringmountaineer had to hew his way, in order to take firm foot-hold. Shesails up the rushing river on a slender fir-branch--springs from onecliff to another, with her long snow-white hair, fluttering around her, and with her bluish-green mantle, which resembles the water of the deepSwiss lakes. 

"Crush, hold fast! the power is mine!" cried she. "They have stolen alovely boy from me, a boy, whom I had kissed, but not kissed to death. He is again with men, he tends the goats on the mountains; he climbsup, up high, beyond the reach of all others, but not beyond mine! Heis mine, I shall have him!"--

And she ordered Vertigo to fulfil her duty; it was too warm for theIce-Maiden, in summer-time, in the green spots where the mint thrives. Vertigo arose; one came, three came, (for Vertigo had many sisters, very many of them) and the Maiden chose the strongest among those thatrule within doors and without. They sit on the balusters and on thespires of the steep towers, they tread through the air as the swimmerglides through the water and entice their prey down the abyss. Vertigoand the Ice-Maiden seize on men as the polypus clutches at all withinits reach. Vertigo was to gain possession of Rudy. "Yes, just catchhim for me" said Vertigo. "I cannot do it! The cat, the dirty thing, has taught him her arts! The child of the race of man, possesses apower, that repulses me; I cannot get at the little boy, when he hangsby the branches over the abyss. I may tickle him on the soles of hisfeet or give him a box on the ear whilst he is swinging in the air, itis of no avail. I can do nothing!"

"We _can_ do it!" said the Ice-Maiden. "You or I! I! I!"--

"No, no!" sounded back the echo of the church-bells through themountain, like a sweet melody; it was like speech, an harmoniouschorus of all the spirits of nature, mild, good, full of love, for itcame from the daughters of the sun-beams, who encamped themselvesevery evening in a circle around the pinnacles of the mountains, andspread out their rose-coloured wings, that grow more and more red asthe sun sinks, and glow over the high Alps; men call it, "the Alpineglow. " When the sun is down, they enter the peaks of the rocks andsleep on the white snow, until the sun rises, and then they sallyforth. Above all, they love flowers, butterflies, and men, and amongstthem they had chosen little Rudy as their favourite. 

"You will not catch him! You shall not have him!" said they. "I havecaught and kept stronger and larger ones!" said the Ice-Maiden. 

Then the daughters of the Sun sang a lay of the wanderer, whose cloakthe whirlwind had torn off and carried away. The wind took thecovering, but not the man. "Ye children of strength can seize, but nothold him; he is stronger, he is more spirit-like, than we; he ascendshigher than the Sun, our mother! He possesses the magic word, thatrestrains wind and water, so that they are obliged to obey and servehim!"

So sounded cheerfully the bell-like chorus. 

And every morning the sun-beams shone through the tiny window in thegrandfather's house, on the quiet child. The daughters of thesun-beams kissed him, they wished to thaw him, to warm him and tocarry away with them the icy kiss, which the queenly maiden of theglaciers had given him, as he lay on his dead mother's lap, in thedeep icy gap, whence he was saved through a miracle. 

II. 

THE JOURNEY TO THE NEW HOME. 

Rudy was now eight years old. His father's brother, in Rhonethal, theother side of the mountain, wished to have the boy, for he thoughtthat with him he would fare and prosper better; his grandfatherperceived this and gave his consent. 

Rudy must go. There were others to take leave of him, besides hisgrandfather; first there was Ajola, the old dog. 

"Your father was post-boy and I was post-dog, " said Ajola. "We havetravelled up and down; I know dogs and men on the other side of themountain. It is not my custom to speak much, but now, that we shallnot have much time to converse with each other, I must talk a littlemore than usual. I will relate a story to you; I shall tell you how Ihave earned my bread, and how I have eaten it. I do not understand itand I suppose that you will not either, but it matters not, for I havediscovered that the good things of this earth are not equally dividedbetween dogs or men. All are not fitted to lie on the lap and sipmilk, I have not been accustomed to it; but I saw a little dog seatedin the coach with us and it occupied a person's place. The woman whowas its mistress, or who belonged to its mistress, had a bottle filledwith milk, out of which she fed it; it got sweet sugar biscuits too, but it would not even eat them; only snuffed at them, and so the womanate them herself. I ran in the mud, by the side of the coach, ashungry as a dog could be; I chewed my crude thoughts, that was notright--but this is often done! If I could but have been carried onsome one's knee and have been seated in a coach! But one cannot haveall one desires. I have not been able to do so, neither with barkingnor with yawning. "

That was Ajola's speech, and Rudy seized him by the neck and kissedhim on his moist mouth, and then he took the cat in his arms, but shewas angry at it. 

"You are getting too strong for me, and I will not use my clawsagainst you! Just climb over the mountains, I taught you to climb!Never think that you will fall, then you are secure!"

Then the cat ran away, without letting Rudy see how her grief shoneout of her eye. 

The hens ran about the floor; one had lost her tail; a traveller, whowished to be a hunter, had shot it off, because the creature had takenthe hen for a bird of prey!

"Rudy is going over the mountain!" said one hen. "He is always in ahurry, " said the other, "and I do not care for leave-takings!" and sothey both tripped away. 

And the goats, too, said farewell and cried: "Mit, mit, mah!" and thatwas so sad. 

There were two nimble guides in the neighbourhood, and they were aboutto cross the mountains; they were to descend to the other side of theGemmi, and Rudy followed them on foot. This was a severe march forsuch a little chap, but he had strength and courage, and felt notfatigue. 

The swallows accompanied them a part of the way. They sang: "We andyou! You and us!" The road went over the rapid Lütschine, whichrushes forth from the black clefts of the glacier of Grindelwald, inmany little streams. The fallen timber and the quarry-stones serve asbridges; they pass the alder-bush and descend the mountain where theglacier has detached itself from the mountain side; they cross overthe glacier, over the blocks of ice, and go around them. Rudy wasobliged to creep a little, to walk a little, his eyes sparkled withdelight, and he trod as firmly with his iron-shod mountain shoes, asthough he wished to leave his foot-prints where he had stepped. Theblack mud which the mountain stream had poured upon the glacier gaveit a calcined appearance, but the bluish-green, glassy ice still shonethrough it. They were obliged to go around the little ponds whichwere dammed up by blocks of ice; during these wanderings they came toonear a large stone, which lay tottering on the brink of a crevice inthe ice. The stone lost its equilibrium, it fell, rolled and the echoresounded from the deep hollow paths of the glacier. 

Up, ever up; the glacier stretched itself on high--as a river, ofwildly heaped up masses of ice, compressed among the steep cliffs. Foran instant Rudy thought on what they had told him, about his havinglaid with his mother, in one of these cold-breathing chasms. Suchthoughts soon vanished; it seemed to him as though it were some otherstory--one of the many which had been related to him. Now and then, when the men thought that the ascent was too difficult for the littlelad, they would reach him their hand, but he was never weary andstood on the slippery ice as firm as a chamois. Now they reached thebottom of the rocks, they were soon among the bare stones, which werevoid of moss; soon under the low fir-trees and again out on the greencommon--ever changing, ever new. Around them arose the snow mountains, whose names were as familiar to Rudy as they were to every child inthe neighbourhood: "the Jungfrau, " "the Mönch, " and "the Eiger. "

Rudy had never been so high before, had never before trodden on thevast sea of snow, which lay there with its immoveable waves. The windblew single flakes about, as it blows the foam upon the waters of thesea. 

Glacier stood by glacier, if one may say so, hand in hand; each onewas an ice-palace for the Ice-Maiden, whose power and will is: "tocatch and to bury. " The sun burned warmly, the snow was dazzling, asif sown with bluish-white, glittering diamond sparks. Countlessinsects (butterflies and bees mostly) lay in masses dead on the snow;they had ventured too high, or the wind had borne them thither, but tobreathe their last in these cold regions. A threatening cloud hungover the Wetterhorn, like a fine, black tuft of wool. It lowereditself slowly, heavily, with that which lay concealed within it, andthis was the "Föhn, "[A] powerful in its strength when it broke loose. The impression of the entire journey, the night quarters above andthen the road beyond, the deep rocky chasms, where the water forcedits way through the blocks of stone with terrible rapidity, engraveditself indelibly on Rudy's mind. 

On the other side of the sea of snow, a forsaken stone hut gave themprotection and shelter for the night; a fire was quickly lighted, forthey found within it charcoal and fir branches; they arranged theircouch as well as possible. The men seated themselves around the fire, smoked their tobacco and drank the warm spicy drink, which they hadprepared for themselves. Rudy had his share too and they told him ofthe mysterious beings of the Alpine country; of the singular fightingsnakes in the deep lakes; of the people of night; of the hordes ofspectres, who carry sleepers through the air, towards the wonderfulfloating city of Venice; of the wild shepherd, who drives his blacksheep over the meadow; it is true, they had never been seen, but thesound of the bells and the unhappy bellowing of the flock, had beenheard. 

Rudy listened eagerly, but without any fear, for he did not even knowwhat that was, and whilst he listened he thought he heard theghost-like hollow bellowing! Yes, it became more and more distinct, the men heard it also, they stopped talking, listened and told Rudy hemust not sleep. 

It was the Föhn which blew, the powerful storm-wind, which rushes downthe mountains into the valley and with its strength bends the trees, as if they were mere reeds, and lifts the wooden houses from one sideof the river to the other, as if the move had been made on achess-board. 

After the lapse of an hour, they told Rudy that the storm had nowblown over and that he might rest; with this license, fatigued by hismarch, he at once fell asleep. 

They departed early in the morning; the sun showed Rudy newmountains, new glaciers and snow-fields; they had now reached CantonValais and the other side of the mountain ridge which was visible atGrindelwald, but they were still far from the new home. Other chasms, precipices, pasture-grounds; forests and paths through the woods, unfolded themselves to the view; other houses, other human beings--butwhat human beings! Deformed creatures, with unmeaning, fat, yellowish-white faces; with a large, ugly, fleshy lump on their necks;these were cretins who dragged themselves miserably along and gazedwith their stupid eyes on the strangers who arrived among them. As forthe women, the greatest number of them were frightful!

Were these the inhabitants of the new home?

FOOTNOTES:

[A] A humid south wind on the lakes of Switzerland, a fearful storm. 

III. 

THE FATHER'S BROTHER. 

The people in the uncle's house, looked, thank heaven, like those whomRudy was accustomed to see. But one cretin was there, a poor sillylad, one of the many miserable creatures, who on account of theirpoverty and need, always make their home among the families of CantonValais and remain with each but a couple of months. The wretchedSaperli happened to be there when Rudy arrived. 

Rudy's father's brother was still a vigorous hunter and was also acooper by trade; his wife, a lively little person, had what is calleda bird's face; her eyes resembled those of an eagle and she had along neck entirely covered with down. 

Everything was new to Rudy, the dress, manners and customs, yes, eventhe language, but that is soon acquired and understood by a child'sear. Here, they seemed to be better off, than in his grandfather'shouse; the dwelling rooms were larger, the walls looked gay with theirchamois horns and highly polished rifles; over the door-way hung thepicture of the blessed Virgin; alpine roses and a burning lamp stoodbefore it. 

His uncle, was as we have said before, one of the most famous chamoishunters in the neighbourhood and also the most experienced and bestguide. 

Rudy was to be the pet of the household, although there already wasone, an old deaf and blind dog, whom they could no longer use; butthey remembered his many past services and he was looked upon as amember of the family and was to pass his old days in peace. Rudypatted the dog, but he would have nothing to do with strangers; Rudydid not long remain one, for he soon took firm hold both in house andheart. 

"One is not badly off in Canton Valais, " said his uncle, "we have thechamois, they do not die out so soon as the mountain goat! It is agreat deal better here now, than in the old times; they may talk abouttheir glory as much as they please. The present time is much better, for a hole has been made in the purse and light and air let into ourquiet valley. When old worn-out customs die away, something newsprings forth!" said he. When uncle became talkative, he told of theyears of his childhood and of his father's active time, when Valaiswas still a closed purse, as the people called it, and when it wasfilled with sick people and miserable cretins. French soldiers came, they were the right kind of doctors, they not only shot down thesickness but the men also. 

"The Frenchmen can beat the stones until they surrender! they cut theSimplon-road out of the rocks--they have hewn out such a road, that Inow can tell a three year old child to go to Italy! Keep to thehighway, and a child may find his way there!" Then the uncle wouldsing a French song and cry hurrah for Napoleon Bonaparte. 

Rudy now heard for the first time of France, of Lyons--the large cityof the Rhone--for his uncle had been there. 

"I wonder if Rudy will become an agile chamois hunter in a few years?He has every disposition for it!" said his uncle, and instructed himhow to hold a rifle, how to aim and to fire. In the hunting season, hetook him with him in the mountains and made him drink the warm chamoisblood, which prevents the hunter from becoming dizzy. He taught him toheed the time when the avalanches roll down the different sides of themountain--at mid-day or at night-fall--which depended upon the heat ofthe rays of the sun. He taught him to notice the chamois, in order tolearn from them how to jump, so as to alight steadily upon the feet. If there was no resting place in the clefts of the rock for the foot, he must know how to support himself with the elbow, and be able toclimb by means of the muscles of the thigh and calf, even the neckmust serve when it is necessary. The chamois are cunning, they placeout-guards--but the hunter must be still more cunning and follow thetrail--and he can deceive them by hanging his coat and hat on hisalpine stick, and so make the chamois take the coat for the man. 

One day when Rudy was out with his uncle hunting, he tried this sport. 

The rocky path was not wide; indeed there was scarcely any, only anarrow ledge, close to the dizzy abyss. The snow was half-thawed, thestones crumbled when trodden upon, and his uncle stretched himself outfull length and crept along. Each stone as it broke away, fell, knocked itself, bounded and then rolled down; it made many leaps fromone rocky wall to another until it found repose in the black deep. Rudy stood about a hundred steps behind his uncle on the outermostcliff, and saw a huge golden vulture, hovering over his uncle, andsailing towards him through the air, as though wishing to cast thecreeping worm into the abyss with one blow of his wing, and to makecarrion of him. His uncle had only eyes for the chamois and its youngkid, on the other side of the cleft. Rudy looked at the bird, understood what it wanted, and laid his hand on his rifle in order toshoot it. At that moment the chamois leaped--his uncle fired--the ballhit the animal, but the kid was gone, as though flight and danger hadbeen its life's experience. The monstrous bird terrified by the reportof the gun, took flight in another direction, and Rudy's uncle knewnought of his danger, until Rudy told him of it. 

As they now were on their way home in the gayest spirits--his uncleplaying one of his youthful melodies on his flute--they suddenlyheard not far from them a singular sound; they looked sideways, theygazed aloof and saw high above them the snow covering of the ruggedshelf of the rock, waving like an outspread piece of linen whenagitated by the wind. The icy waves cracked like slabs of marble, theybroke, dissolved in foaming, rushing water and sounded like a muffledthunder-clap. It was an avalanche rolling down, not over Rudy and hisuncle, but near, only too near to them. 

"Hold fast, Rudy, " cried he, "firm, with your whole strength!"

And Rudy clasped the trunk of a tree; his uncle climbed into itsbranches and held fast, whilst the avalanche rolled many fathoms awayfrom them. But the air-drift of the blustering storm, whichaccompanied it, bowed down the trees and bushes around them like dryreeds and threw them beyond. Rudy lay cast on the earth; the trunk ofthe tree on which he had held was as though sawed off, and its crownwas hurled still farther along. His uncle lay amongst the brokenbranches, with his head shattered; his hands were yet warm, but hisface was no longer to be recognized. Rudy stood pale and trembling;this was the first terror of his life, the first hour of fear that hehad ever known. 

Late in the evening, he returned with his message of death to hishome, which was now one of sorrow. 

The wife stood without words, without tears, and not until the corpsewas brought home did her sorrow find an outburst. The poor cretincrept to his bed and was not seen all day, but towards evening he cameto Rudy, and said: "Write a letter for me. Saperli cannot write!Saperli can take the letter to the post office. "

"A letter for you, " asked Rudy, "and to whom?"

"To our Lord Christ!"

"What do you mean?"

And the half-witted creature gave a touching glance at Rudy, foldedhis hands and said piously and solemnly: "Jesus Christ! Saperli wishesto send him a letter, praying him to let Saperli lie dead and not theman of this house!"

And Rudy pressed his hand, "the letter cannot be sent, the letter willnot give him back to us!"

It was difficult for Rudy to explain the impossibility to him. 

"Now you are the stay of the house!" said his foster-mother, and Rudybecame it. 

IV. 

BABETTE. 

Who is the best shot in Canton Valais? The chamois knew only too well:"Beware of Rudy!" they could say. Who is the handsomest hunter?--"Itis Rudy. " The young girls said this also, but they did not say:"Beware of Rudy!" No, not even the grave mothers, for he nodded tothem quite as amicably as to the young girls. He was so bold and gay, his cheeks were brown, his teeth fresh and white and his coal-blackeyes glittered; he was a handsome young fellow and but twenty yearsold. The icy water did not sting him when he swam, he could turnaround in it like a fish; he could climb as did no one, and he was asfirm on the rocky walls as a snail--for he had good sinews and musclesthat served him well in leaping--the cat had first taught him this, and later the chamois. One could not trust one's self to a betterguide than to Rudy. In this way he could collect quite a fortune, buthe had no taste for the trade of a cooper, which his uncle had taughthim; his delight and pleasure was to shoot chamois, and this wasprofitable also. Rudy was a good match if one did not look higher thanone's station, and in dancing he was just the kind of dancer thatyoung girls dream about, and one or the other were always thinking ofhim when they were awake. 

"He kissed me whilst dancing!" said the schoolmaster's Annette to hermost intimate friend, but she should not have said this, not even toher dearest friend, but it is difficult to keep such things to one'sself--like sand in a purse with a hole in it, it soon runs out--andalthough Rudy was so steady and good it was soon known that he kissedwhilst dancing. 

"Watch him, " said an old hunter, "he has commenced with A, and he willkiss the whole alphabet through!"

A kiss, at a dance, was all they could say in their gossipping, but hehad kissed Annette, and she was by no means the flower of his heart. 

Down near Bex, between the great walnut trees, close by a rapid littlestream, dwelt the rich miller. The dwelling-house was a largethree-storied building, with little towers covered with wood andcoated with sheets of lead, which shone in the sunshine and in themoonshine; the largest tower had for a weather-cock a bright arrowwhich pierced an apple and which was intended to represent the appleshot by Tell. The mill looked neat and comfortable, so that it wasreally worth describing and drawing, but the miller's daughter couldneither be described nor drawn, at least so said Rudy. Yet she wasimprinted in his heart, and her eyes acted as a fire-brand upon it, and this had happened suddenly and unexpectedly. The most wonderfulpart of all was, that the miller's daughter, the pretty Babette, thought not of him, for she and Rudy had never even spoken two wordswith each other. 

The miller was rich, and riches placed her much too high to beapproached; "but no one, " said Rudy to himself, "is placed so high asto be unapproachable; one must climb and one does not fall, when onedoes not think of it. " _This_ knowledge he had brought from home withhim. 

Now it so happened that Rudy had business at Bex and it was quite ajourney there, for the railroad was not completed. The broad valley ofValais stretches itself from the glaciers of the Rhone, under the footof the Simplon-mountain, between many varying mountain-heights, withits mighty river, the Rhone, which often swells and destroyseverything, overflooding fields and roads. The valley makes a bend, between the towns of Sion and St. Maurice, like an elbow and becomesso narrow at Maurice, that there only remains sufficient room for theriver bed and a cart way. Here an old tower stands like a sentrybefore the Canton Valais; it ends at this point and overlooks thebridge, which has a wall towards the custom-house. Now begins theCanton called Pays de Vaud and the nearest town is Bex, whereeverything becomes luxuriant and fruitful--one is in a garden ofwalnut and chestnut trees and here and there, cypress and pomegranateblossoms peep out--it is as warm as the South; one imagines one's selftransplanted into Italy. 

Rudy reached Bex, accomplished his business and looked about him, buthe did not see a single miller's boy, not to speak of Babette. Itappeared as though they were not to meet. 

It was evening, the air was heavy with the wild thyme and bloominglinden, a glistening veil lay over the forest-clad mountains, therewas a stillness over everything, but not the quiet of sleep. It seemedas though all nature retained her breath, as if she felt disposed toallow her image to be imprinted upon the firmament. 

Here and there, there were poles standing on the green fields, betweenthe trees; they held the telegraph wire, which has been conductedthrough this peaceful valley. An object leant against one of thesepoles, so immoveable, that one might have taken it for a witheredtrunk of a tree; but it was Rudy. He slept not and still less was hedead; but as the most important events of this earth, as well asaffairs of vital moment for individuals pass over the wires, withouttheir giving out a tone or a tremulous movement, even so flashedthrough Rudy, thoughts--powerful, overwhelming, speaking of thehappiness of his life; his, henceforth, "_constant thought_. " His eyeswere fixed upon a point in the trellis-work, and this was a light inBabette's sitting room. Rudy was so motionless, one might have thoughtthat he was observing a chamois, in order to shoot it. Now, however, he was like the chamois--which appears sculptured on the rock, andsuddenly if a stone rolls, springs and flies away--thus stood Rudy, until a thought struck him. 

"Never despair, " said he. "I shall make a visit to the mill, and say:Good evening miller, good evening Babette! One does not fall when onedoes not think of it! Babette must see me, if I am to be her husband!"

And Rudy laughed, was of good cheer and went to the mill; he knew whathe wanted, he wanted Babette. 

The river, with its yellowish white water rolled on; the willow treesand the lindens bowed themselves deep in the hastening water; Rudywent along the path, and as it says in the old child's song:

 ---- ---- ---- Zu des Müllers Haus, Aber da war Niemand drinnen Nur die Katze schaute aus![B]

The house-cat stood on the step, put up her back and said: "Miau!" butRudy had no thoughts for her language, he knocked, no one heard, noone opened. "Miau!" said the cat. If Rudy had been little, he wouldhave understood the speech of animals and known that the cat told him:"There is no one at home!" He was obliged to cross over to the mill, to make inquiries, and here he had news. The master of the house wasaway on a journey, far away in the town of Interlaken--_inter lacus_, "between the lakes"--as the school-master, Annette's father, hadexplained, in his wisdom. Far away was the miller and Babette withhim; there was to be a shooting festival, which was to commence onthe following day and to continue for a whole week. The Swiss from allthe German cantons were to meet there. 

Poor Rudy, one could well say that he had not taken the happiest timeto visit Bex; now he could return and that was what he did. He tookthe road over Sion and St. Maurice, back to his own valley, back tohis own mountain, but he was not down-cast. On the following morning, when the sun rose, his good humour had returned, in fact it had neverleft him. 

"Babette is in Interlaken, many a day's journey from here!" said he tohimself, "it is a long road thither, if one goes by the highway, butnot so far if one passes over the rocks and that is the road for achamois hunter! I went this road formerly, for there is my home, whereI lived with my grandfather when I was a little child, and they havea shooting festival in Interlaken! I will be the _first_ one there, and that will I be with Babette also, as soon as I have made heracquaintance!"

With his light knapsack containing his Sunday clothes, with his gunand his huntsman's pouch, Rudy ascended the mountain. The short road, was a pretty long one, but the shooting-match had but commenced to-dayand was to last more than a week; the miller and Babette were toremain the whole time, with their relations in Interlaken. Rudycrossed the Gemmi, for he wished to go to Grindelwald. 

He stepped forwards merry and well, out into the fresh, light mountainair. The valley sank beneath him, the horizon widened; here and therea snow-peak, and soon appeared the whole shining white alpine chain. Rudy knew every snow mountain, onward he strode towards theSchreckhorn, that elevates its white powdered snow-finger high in theair. 

At last he crossed the ridge of the mountain and the pasture-groundsand reached the valley of his home; the air was light and his spiritsgay, mountain and valley stood resplendent with verdure and flowers. His heart was filled with youthful thoughts;--that one can never growold, never die; but live, rule and enjoy;--free as a bird, light as abird was he. The swallows flew by and sang as in his childhood: "Weand you, and You and we!" All was happiness. 

Below lay the velvet-green meadow, with its brown wooden houses, theLütschine hummed and roared. He saw the glacier with its green glassedges and its black crevices in the deep snow, and the under andupper glacier. The sound of the church-bells was carried over to him, as if they chimed a welcome home; his heart beat loudly and expanded, so, that for a moment, Babette vanished from it; his heart widened, itwas so full of recollections. He retraced his steps, over the path, where he used to stand when a little boy, with the other children, onthe edge of the ditch, and where he sold carved wooden houses. Yonder, under the fir-trees was his grandfather's house, --strangers dwelledthere. Children came running up the path, wishing to sell; one of themheld an alpine rose towards him. Rudy took it for a good omen andthought of Babette. Quickly he crossed the bridge, where the twoLütschines meet; the leafy trees had increased and the walnut treesgave deeper shade. He saw the streaming Swiss and Danish flags--thewhite cross on the red cloth--and Interlaken lay before him. 

It was certainly a magnificent town; like no other, it seemed to Rudy. A Swiss town in its Sunday dress, was not like other trading-places, amass of black stone houses, heavy, uninviting and stiff. No! it lookedas though the wooden houses, on the mountain had run down into thegreen valley, to the clear, swift river and had ranged themselves in arow--a little in and out--so as to form a street, the most splendid ofall streets, which had grown up since Rudy was here as a child. Itappeared to him, that here all the pretty wooden houses that hisgrandfather had carved, and with which the cup-board at home used tobe filled, had placed themselves there and had grown in strength, asthe old, the oldest chestnut trees had done. Each house had carvedwood-work around the windows and balconies, projecting roofs, prettyand neat; in front of every house a little flower garden extended intothe stone-covered street. The houses were all placed on one side, asif they wished to conceal the forest-green meadow, where the cows withtheir tinkling bells made one fancy one's self near the high alpinepasture-grounds. The meadow was enclosed with high mountains, thatleaned to one side so that the Jungfrau, the most stately of the Swissmountains, with its glistening snow-clad top, was visible. 

What a quantity of well dressed ladies and gentlemen from foreigncountries! What multitudes of inhabitants from the different cantons!The shooters, with their numbers placed in a wreath around theirhats, waiting to take their turn. Here was music and song, hurdy-gurdys and wind instruments, cries and confusion. The houses andbridges were decked with devices and verses; banners and flagsfloated, rifles sounded shot after shot; this was the best music toRudy's ear and he entirely forgot Babette, although he had come forher sake. 

The marksmen thronged towards the spot where the target-shooting was;Rudy was soon among them and he was the best, the luckiest, for healways hit the mark. 

"Who can the strange hunter be?" they asked, "He speaks the Frenchlanguage as though he came from Canton Valais!" "He speaks our Germanvery distinctly!" said others. "He is said to have lived in theneighbourhood of Grindelwald, when a child!" said one of them. 

There was life in the youth; his eyes sparkled, his aim was true. Goodluck gives courage, and Rudy had courage at all times; he soon had alarge circle of friends around him, they praised him, they did homageto him, and Babette had almost entirely left his thoughts. At thatmoment a heavy hand struck him on the shoulder, and a gruff voiceaddressed him in the French tongue:

"You are from Canton Valais?"

Rudy turned around. A stout person, with a red, contented countenance, stood by him and that was the rich miller of Bex. He covered with hiswide body, the slight pretty Babette, who however, soon peeped outwith her beaming dark eyes. The rich peasant became consequentialbecause the hunter from his canton had made the best shot and was thehonoured one. Rudy was certainly a favourite of fortune, that, forwhich he had journeyed thither and almost forgotten had sought him. 

When one meets a countryman far from one's home, why then one knowsone another, and speaks together. Rudy was the first at the shootingfestival and the miller was the first at Bex, through his money andmill, and so the two men pressed each other's hands: this they hadnever done before. Babette also, gave Rudy her little hand and hepressed her's in return and looked at her, so--that she became quitered. 

The miller told of the long journey which they had made here, of themany large towns which they had seen--that was a real journey; theyhad come in the steam-boat and had been driven by post and rail!

"I came by the short road, " said Rudy, "I came over the mountains;there is no path so high, that one can not reach it!"

"But one can break one's neck, " said the miller, "you look as thoughyou would do so some day, you are so daring!"

"One does not fall, when one does not think of it!" said Rudy. 

And the miller's family in Interlaken, with whom the miller andBabette were staying, begged Rudy to pay them a visit, for he was fromthe same canton as their relations. 

These were glad tidings for Rudy, fortune smiled upon him, as italways does on those that rely upon themselves and think upon thesaying: "Our Lord gives us nuts, but he does not crack them for us!"Rudy made himself quite at home with the miller's relations; theydrank the health of the best marksman. Babette knocked her glassagainst his and Rudy gave thanks for the honour shown him. 

In the evening, they all walked under the walnut trees, in front ofthe decorated hôtels; there was such a crowd, such a throng, that Rudywas obliged to offer his arm to Babette. "He was so rejoiced to havemet people from Pays de Vaud, " said he, "Pays de Vaud and Valais weregood neighbourly cantons. " His joy was so profound that it struckBabette, she must press his hand. They walked along almost like oldacquaintances; she was so amusing, the darling little creature, itbecame her so prettily Rudy thought, when she described what waslaughable and overdone in the dress of the ladies, and ridiculed theirmanners and walk. She did not do this in order to mock them, for nodoubt they were very good people, yes! kind and amiable. Babette knewwhat was right, for she had a god-mother that was a distinguishedEnglish lady. She was in Bex, eighteen years ago, when Babette wasbaptized; she had given Babette, the expensive breastpin which shewore. The god-mother had written her two letters; this year she was tomeet her in Interlaken, with her daughters; they were old maids, overthirty years old, said Babette;--she was just eighteen. 

The sweet little mouth was not still a minute; everything that Babettesaid, sounded to Rudy of great importance. Then he related how oftenhe had been in Bex, how well he knew the mill; how often he had seenBabette, but she of course had never remarked him; he told how, whenhe reached the mill, with many thoughts to which he could give noutterance, she and her father were far away; still not so far as torender it impossible for him to ascend the rocky wall which made theroad so long. 

Yes, he said this; and he also said how much he thought of her; thatit was for her sake and not on account of the shooting festival thathe had come. 

Babette remained very still, for what he confided to her was almosttoo much joy. 

The sun set behind the rocky wall, whilst they were walking, and therestood the Jungfrau in all her radiant splendour, surrounded by thedark green circle of the adjacent mountains. The vast crowd of peoplestopped to look at it, Rudy and Babette also gazed upon its grandeur. 

"It is nowhere more beautiful than here!" said Babette. 

"Nowhere!" said Rudy, and looked at Babette. 

"I must leave to-morrow!" said he, a little later. 

"Visit us in Bex, " whispered Babette, "it will delight my father!"

FOOTNOTES:

[B] The cat looked out from the miller's house, No one was in, not even a mouse!

V. 

HOMEWARDS. 

Ah! how much Rudy carried with him, as he went home the next morningover the mountains. Yes, there were three silver goblets, two veryfine rifles and a silver coffee pot, which one could use if one wishedto go to house-keeping; but he carried with him something far, farmore important, far mightier, or rather _that_ carried him over thehigh mountains. 

The weather was raw, moist and cold, grey and heavy; the cloudslowered over the mountain-tops like mourning veils, and enveloped theshining peaks of the rocks. The sound of the axe resounded from thedepths of the forest, and the trunks of the trees rolled down themountain, looking in the distance like slight sticks, but onapproaching them they were heavy trees, suitable for making masts. TheLütschine rushed on with its monotonous sound, the wind blustered, theclouds sailed by. 

Suddenly a young girl approached Rudy, whom he had not noticed before;not until she was beside him; she also was about crossing themountain. Her eyes had so peculiar a power that one was forced to lookinto them; they were so strangely clear--clear as glass, so deep, sofathomless--

"Have you a beloved one?" asked Rudy; for to have a beloved one waseverything to him. 

"I have none!" said she, and laughed; but it was as though she was notspeaking the truth. "Do not let us take a by-way, " continued she, "wemust go more to the left, that way is shorter!"

"Yes, so as to fall down a precipice!" said Rudy; "Do you know nobetter way, and yet wish to be a guide?"

"I know the road well, " said she, "my thoughts are with me; yours arebeneath in the valley; here on high, one must think on the Ice-Maiden, for they say she is not well disposed to mankind!"

"I do not fear her, " said Rudy, "she was forced to let me go when Iwas a child, so I suppose I can slip away from her now that I amolder!"

The darkness increased, the rain fell, the snow came; it shone anddazzled. "Give me your hand, I will help you to ascend!" said thegirl, and touched him with icy-cold fingers. 

"You help me, " said Rudy, "I do not yet need a woman's help inclimbing!" He strode quickly on, away from her; the snow-showerformed a curtain around him, the wind whistled by him and he heard theyoung girl laugh and sing; it sounded so oddly! Yes, that wascertainly a spirit in the service of the Ice-Maiden. Rudy had heard ofthem, when he had passed a night on high; when he had crossed themountain, as a little boy. 

The snow fell more scantily and the shadows lay under him; he lookedback, there was no one to be seen, but he heard laughing and _jodling_and it did not appear to come from a human being. When Rudy reachedthe uppermost portion of the mountain, where the rocky path leads tothe valley of the Rhone, he saw in the direction of Chamouni, twobright stars, twinkling and shining in the clear streaks of blue; hethought of Babette, of himself, of his happiness and became warmed byhis thoughts. 

VI. 

THE VISIT TO THE MILL. 

"You bring princely things into the house!" said the oldfoster-mother, her singular eagle-eyes glistened and she made strangeand hasty motions with her lean neck. 

"Fortune is with you, Rudy, I must kiss you, my sweet boy!"

Rudy allowed himself to be kissed, but one could read in hiscountenance, that he but submitted to circumstances and to littlehousehold miseries. "How handsome you are, Rudy!" said the old woman. 

"Do not put notions into my head!" answered Rudy, and laughed, butstill it pleased him. 

"I say it once more, " said the old woman, "fortune is with you!"

"Yes, I agree with you there!" said he; thought of Babette and longedto be in the deep valley. "They must have returned, two days havepassed since they expected to do so. I must go to Bex!"

Rudy went to Bex, and the inhabitants of the mill had returned; he waswell received and they brought him greetings from the family atInterlaken. Babette did not talk much, she had grown silent; but hereyes spoke and that was quite enough for Rudy. The miller whogenerally liked to carry on the conversation--for he was accustomed tohave every one laugh at his witty sayings and puns--was he not therich miller?--seemed now to prefer to listen. Rudy recounted to himhis hunting expeditions; described the difficulties, the dangers andthe privations of the chamois hunter when on the lofty mountain peak;how often he must climb over the insecure snow-ledges, that the windhad blown on the rocky brink, and how he must pass over slight bridgesthat the snow-drifts had thrown across the abyss. Rudy lookedfearless, his eyes sparkled whilst he spoke of the shrewdness of thechamois, of their daring leaps, of the violence of the Föhn and of therolling avalanches. He observed that with every description he wonmore and more favour; but what pleased the miller more than all, wasthe account of the lamb's vulture and the bold golden eagle. 

In Canton Valais, not far from here, there was an eagle's nest, veryslyly built under the projecting edge of the rock; a young one was init, but no one could steal it! An Englishman had offered Rudy a fewdays before, a whole handful of gold, if he would bring him the youngone alive, "but everything has a limit, " said he, "the young eaglecannot be taken away, and it would be madness to attempt it!"

The wine and conversation flowed freely; but the evening appeared alltoo short for Rudy; yet it was past midnight, when he went home fromhis first visit to the mill. 

The light shone a little while longer through the window and betweenthe green trees; the parlour-cat came out of an opening in the roofand the kitchen-cat came along the gutter. 

"Do you know the latest news at the mill?" said the parlour-cat, "there has been a silent betrothal in the house! Father does not yetknow it, but Rudy and Babette have reached each other their paws underthe table, and he trod three times on my fore-paws, but still I didnot mew, for that would have awakened attention!"

"I should have done it, nevertheless!" said the kitchen-cat. 

"What is suited to the kitchen is not suited to the parlour, " said theparlour-cat. "I should like to know what the miller will say, when hehears of the betrothal!"

Yes, what the miller would say! That was what Rudy would have liked toknow, for Rudy was not at all patient. When the omnibus rumbled overthe bridge of the Rhone, between Valais and Pays de Vaud not many daysafter, Rudy sat in it and was of good cheer; filled with pleasingthoughts of the "Yes, " of the same evening. 

When evening came and the omnibus returned, yes, there sat Rudywithin, but the parlour-cat, was running about in the mill with greatnews. 

"Listen, you, in the kitchen! The miller knows everything now. Thishas had an exquisite ending! Rudy came here towards evening; he andBabette had much to whisper and to chatter about, as they stood in thewalk, under the miller's chamber. I lay close to their feet but theyhad neither eyes nor thoughts for me. 'I am going directly to yourfather, ' said Rudy, 'this is an honourable affair!' 'Shall I followyou?' asked Babette, 'it may give you more courage!' 'I have courageenough, ' said Rudy, 'but if you are there, he will be forced to lookat it in a more favourable light!' They went in. Rudy trod heavily onmy tail! Rudy is indescribably awkward; I mewed, but neither he norBabette had ears to hear it. They opened the door, they entered and Ipreceded them; I leaped upon the back of a chair, for I did not knowbut that Rudy would overturn everything! But the miller reversed all, that was a great step! Out of the door, up the mountains, to thechamois! Rudy can aim at them now, but not at our little Babette!"

"But what was said?" asked the kitchen-cat. 

"Said? Everything. 'I care for her and she cares for me! When there ismilk enough in the jug for one, there is milk enough in the jug fortwo!' 'But she is placed too high for you, ' said the miller, 'she sitson gold dust, so now you know it; you can not reach her!' 'Nothing istoo high; he who wills can reach anything!' said Rudy. He is tooheadstrong on this subject! 'But you cannot reach the eaglet, you saidso yourself lately! Babette is still higher!' 'I will have them both!'said Rudy. 'Yes, I will bestow her upon you, if you make me a presentof the eaglet alive!' said the miller and laughed until the tearsstood in his eyes. 

"'Thanks for your visit, Rudy! Come again to-morrow, you will find noone at home. Farewell, Rudy!' Babette said farewell also, assorrowfully as a kitten, that cannot see its mother. 'A word is aword, a man is a man, ' said Rudy, 'do not weep Babette, I shall bringthe eaglet!' 'I hope that you will break your neck!' said the miller. That's what I call an overturning! Now Rudy has gone, and Babette sitsand weeps; but the miller sings in German, he learned to do so whilston his journey! I do not intend to trouble myself any longer about it, it does no good!"

"There is still a prospect!" said the kitchen-cat. 

VII. 

THE EAGLE'S NEST. 

Merry and loud sounded the _jodel_ from the mountain-path, itindicated good humour and joyous courage; it was Rudy; he was going tohis friend Vesinand. 

"You must help me! We will take Ragli with us; I am going after theeaglet on the brink of the rock!"

"Do you not wish to go after the black spot in the moon? That is quiteas easy, " said Vesinand; "you are in a good humour!"

"Yes, because I am thinking of my wedding; but seriously, you shallknow how my affairs stand!"

Vesinand and Ragli soon knew what Rudy wished. 

"You are a bold fellow, " said they, "do not do this! You will breakyour neck!"

"One does not fall, when one does not think of it!" said Rudy. 

About mid-day, they set out with poles, ladders and ropes; their pathlay through bushes and brambles, over the rolling stones, up, up inthe dark night. 

The water rushed beneath them; the water flowed above them and thehumid clouds chased each other in the air. The hunters approached thesteep brink of the rock; it became darker and darker, the rocky wallsalmost met; high above them in the narrow fissure the air penetratedand gave light. Under their feet there was a deep abyss with itsroaring waters. 

They all three sat still, awaiting the grey of the morning; then theeagle would fly out; they must shoot him before they could think ofobtaining the young one. Rudy seemed to be a part of the stone onwhich he sat; his rifle placed before him, ready to take aim, his eyesimmoveably fastened on yon high cleft which concealed the eagle'snest. The three huntsmen waited long. 

A crashing, whizzing noise sounded high above them; a large hoveringobject darkened the air. Two rifle barrels were aimed as the blackeagle flew from its nest; a shot was heard, the out-spread wings movedan instant, then the bird slowly sank as if it wished to fill theentire cliff with its outstretched wings and bury the huntsmen in itsfall. The eagle sank in the deep; the branches of the trees and bushescracked, broken by the fall of the bird. 

They now displayed their activity; three of the longest ladders weretied together; they stood them on the farthest point where the footcould place itself with security, close to the brink of theprecipice--but they were not long enough; there was still a greatspace from the outermost projecting cliff, which protected the nest;the rocky wall was perfectly smooth. After some consultation, theydecided to lower into the opening two ladders tied together and tofasten them to the three already beneath them. With great difficultythey dragged them up and attached them with cords; the ladders shotover the projecting cliffs and hung over the chasm; Rudy sat alreadyon the lowest round. 

It was an ice-cold morning, and the mist mounted from the blackravine. Rudy sat there like a fly on a rocking blade of grass, which anest-building bird has dropped in its hasty flight, on the edge of afactory chimney; but the fly had the advantage of escaping by itswings, poor Rudy had none, he was almost sure to break his neck. Thewind whistled around him and the roaring water from the thawedglaciers, the palace of the Ice-Maiden, poured itself into the abyss. 

He gave the ladders a swinging motion--as the spider swings herself byher long thread--he seized them with a strong and steady hand, butthey shook as if they had worn-out hasps. 

The five long ladders looked like a tremulous reed, as they reachedthe nest and hung perpendicularly over the rocky wall. Now came themost dangerous part; Rudy had to climb as a cat climbs; but Rudy coulddo this, for the cat had taught it to him. He did not feel thatVertigo trod in the air behind him and stretched her polypus-like armstowards him. Now he stood on the highest round of the ladder andperceived that he was not sufficiently high to enable him to see intothe nest; he could reach it with his hands. He tried how firm thetwigs were, which plaited in one another formed the bottom of thenest; when he had assured himself of a thick and immoveable one, heswung himself off of the ladder. He had his breast and head over thenest, out of which streamed towards him a stifling stench of carrion;torn lambs, chamois and birds lay decomposing around him. Vertigo, whohad no power over him, blew poisonous vapours into his face to stupifyhim; below in the black, yawning abyss, sat the Ice-Maiden herself, onthe hastening water, with her long greenish-white hair and stared athim with death-like eyes, which were pointed at him like two riflebarrels. 

"Now, I shall catch you!"

Seated in one corner of the eagle's nest was the eaglet, who could notfly yet, although so strong and powerful. Rudy fastened his eyes onit, held himself with his whole strength firmly by one hand, and withthe other threw the noose around it. It was captured alive, its legswere in the knot; Rudy cast the rope over his shoulder, so that theanimal dangled some distance below him, and sustained himself byanother rope which hung down, until his feet touched the upper roundof the ladder. 

"Hold fast, do not think that you will fall and then you are sure notto do so!" That was the old lesson, and he followed it; held fast, climbed, was sure not to fall and he did not. 

There resounded a strong _jodling_, and a joyous one too. Rudy stoodon the firm, rocky ground with the young eaglet. 

VIII. 

THE NEWS WHICH THE PARLOUR-CAT RELATED. 

"Here is what you demanded!" said Rudy, on entering the house of themiller at Bex, as he placed a large basket on the floor and took offthe covering. Two yellow eyes, with black circles around them, fieryand wild, looked out as if they wished to set on fire, or to killthose around them. The short beak yawned ready to bite and the neckwas red and downy. 

"The eaglet!" cried the miller. Babette screamed, jumped to one sideand could neither turn her eyes from Rudy, nor from the eaglet. 

"You do not allow yourself to be frightened!" said the miller. 

"And you keep your word, at all times, " said Rudy, "each has hischaracteristic trait!"

"But why did you not break your neck?" asked the miller. 

"Because I held on firmly, " answered Rudy, "and I hold firmly onBabette!"

"First see that you have her!" said the miller and laughed; that was agood sign; Babette knew this. 

"Let us take the eaglet from the basket, it is terrible to see how heglares! How did you get him?"

Rudy was obliged to recount his adventure, whilst the miller stared athim with eyes, which grew larger and larger. 

"With your courage and with your luck you could take care of threewives!" said the miller. 

"Thanks! Thanks!" cried Rudy. 

"Yes, but you have not yet Babette!" said the miller as he struck theyoung chamois hunter, jestingly on the shoulder. 

"Do you know the latest news in the mill?" said the parlour-cat to thekitchen-cat. "Rudy has brought us the young eagle and taken Babette inexchange. They have kissed each other and the father looked on. Thatis just as good as a betrothal; the old man did not overturn anything, he drew in his claws, took his nap and left the two seated, caressingeach other. They have so much to relate, they will not get throughtill Christmas!"

They had not finished at Christmas. 

The wind whistled through the brown foliage, the snow swept throughthe valley as it did on the high mountains. The Ice-Maiden sat in herproud castle and arrayed herself in her winter costume; the ice wallsstood in glazed frost; where the mountain streams waved their wateryveil in summer, were now seen thick elephantine icicles, shininggarlands of ice, formed of fantastic ice crystals, encircled thefir-trees, which were powdered with snow. 

The Ice-Maiden rode on the blustering wind over the deepest valleys. The snow covering lay over all Bex; Rudy stayed in doors more than washis wont, and sat with Babette. The wedding was to take place in thesummer; their friends talked so much of it that it often made theirears burn. All was sunshine with them, and the loveliest alpine rosewas Babette, the sprightly, laughing Babette, who was as charming asthe early spring; the spring that makes the birds sing, that willbring the summer time and the wedding day. 

"How can they sit there and hang over each other, " exclaimed theparlour-cat, "I am really tired of their eternal mewing!"

IX. 

THE ICE-MAIDEN. 

The early spring time had unfolded the green leaves of the walnut andchestnut trees; they were remarkably luxuriant from the bridge of St. Maurice to the banks of the lake of Geneva. 

The Rhone, which rushes forth from its source, has under the greenglacier the palace of the Ice-Maiden. She is carried by it and thesharp wind to the elevated snow-fields, where she extends herself onher damp cushions in the brilliant sunshine. There she sits and gazes, with far-seeing sight, upon the valley where mortals busily move aboutlike so many ants. 

"Beings endowed with mental powers, as the children of the Sun, callyou, " said the Ice-Maiden--"ye are worms! _One_ snow-ball rolled andyou and your houses and towns are crushed and swept away!" She raisedher proud head still higher and looked with death-beaming eyes fararound and below her. From the valley resounded a rumbling, a blastingof rocks, men were making railways and tunnels. "They are playing likemoles, " said she, "they excavate passages, and a noise is made likethe firing of a gun. When I transpose _my_ castles, it roars louderthan the rolling of the thunder!"

A smoke arose from the valley and moved along like a floating veil, like a waving plume; it was the locomotive which led the train overthe newly built railroad--this crooked snake, whose limbs are formedof cars upon cars. It shot along with the speed of an arrow. 

"They are playing the masters with their mental powers, " said theIce-Maiden, "but the powers of nature are the ruling ones!" and shelaughed and her laugh was echoed in the valley. 

"Now an avalanche is rolling!" said the men below. 

Still more loudly sang the children of the Sun; they sang of the"thoughts" of men which fetter the sea to the yoke, cut down mountainsand fill up valleys; of human thoughts which rule the powers ofnature. At this moment, a company of travellers crossed the snow-fieldwhere the Maiden sat; they had bound themselves firmly together withropes, in order to form a large body on the smooth ice-field by thedeep abyss. 

"Worms!" said she, "as if you were lords of creation!" She turned fromthem and looked mockingly upon the deep valley, where the cars wererushing by. 

"There sit those _thoughts_ in their power of strength! I see themall!--There sits one, proud as a king and alone! They sit in masses!There, half are asleep! When the steam-dragon stops, they will descendand go their way! The thoughts go out into the world!" She laughed. 

"There rolls another avalanche!" they said in the valley. 

"It will not catch us!" said two on the back of the steamdragon;--"two souls and one thought"--these were Rudy and Babette; themiller was there also. 

"As baggage, " said he, "I go along, as the indispensable!"

"There sit the two, " said the Ice-Maiden, "I have crushed many achamois; I have bent and broken millions of alpine roses, so that noroots were left! I shall annihilate _them_! The thoughts! The mentalpowers!" She laughed. 

"There rolls another avalanche!" they said in the valley. 

X. 

THE GOD-MOTHER. 

In Montreux, one of the adjoining towns, which with Clarens, Vernexand Crin forms a garland around the northeast part of the lake ofGeneva, dwelt Babette's god-mother, a distinguished English lady, withher daughters and a young relation. Although she had but latelyarrived, the miller had already made her his visit and announcedBabette's engagement; had spoken of Rudy and the eaglet; of the visitto Interlaken and in short had told the whole story. This had rejoicedher in the highest degree, both for Rudy and Babette's sake, as wellas for the miller's; they must all visit her--therefore they came. Babette was to see her god-mother, and the god-mother was to seeBabette. 

At the end of the lake of Geneva, by the little town of Villeneuve, lay the steam-boat which after half an hour's trip from Vernex, arrived at Montreux. This is one of the coasts which are sung of bythe poets. Here sat Byron, by the deep bluish green lake, under thewalnut trees and wrote his melodious verses upon the prisoner of thedeep sombre castle of Chillon. Here, where Clarens with its weepingwillows, mirrored itself in the waters, once wandered Rousseau anddreamt of Heloïse. Yonder, where the Rhone glides along under Savoy'ssnow-topped mountains and not far from its mouth, in the lake lies alittle island, indeed it is so small, that from the coast it is takenfor a vessel. It is a valley between the rocks, which a lady causedto be dammed up a hundred years ago and to be covered with earth andplanted with three acacia-trees, which now shade the whole island. Babette was quite charmed with this little spot; they must and shouldgo there, yes, it must be charming beyond description to be on theisland; but the steamer sailed by, and stopped as it should, atVernex. 

The little party wandered between the white, sunlighted walls, whichsurround the vineyards of the little mountain town of Montreux, through the fig-trees which flourish before every peasant's house andin whose gardens, the laurel and cypress trees are green. Half-way upthe hill stood the boarding house where the god-mother resided. 

The reception was very cordial. The god-mother was a large amiableperson and had a round smiling countenance; as a child she must havehad a real Raphael's angel head, but now it was an old angel's headwith silvery white hair, well curled. The daughters were tall, slender, refined and much dressed. The young cousin who was with them, was clad in white from head to foot; he had golden hair and immensewhiskers; he immediately showed little Babette the greatest attention. 

Richly bound books, loose music and drawings lay strewn about thelarge table; the balcony door stood open and one had a view of thebeautiful out-spread lake, which was so shining, so still, that themountains of Savoy with their little villages, their forest and theirsnowy peaks mirrored themselves in it. 

Rudy, who usually was so full of life, so merry and so daring, did notfeel in his element; he moved about over the smooth floor as thoughhe were treading on peas. How wearily the time dragged along, it wasjust as if one was in a tread mill! If they did go walking, why, thatwas just as slow; Rudy could take two steps forwards and two stepsbackwards and still remain in the pace of the others. 

When they came to Chillon, (the old sombre castle on the rocky island)they entered in order to see the dungeon and the martyr's stake, aswell as the rusty chains on the wall; the stone bed for thosecondemned to death and the trap-door where the wretched beings impaledon iron goads, were hurled into the breakers. It was a place ofexecution elevated through Byron's song to the world of poetry. Rudywas sad, he lent over the broad stone sill of the window, gazed intothe deep blue water and over to the little solitary island with itsthree acacias and wished himself there, free from the whole gossipingsociety. Babette was remarkably merry, she had been indescribablyamused. The cousin found her perfect. 

"Yes, a perfect jackanapes!" said Rudy; this was the first time, thathe had said something, that did not please her. The Englishman hadpresented her with a little book, as a souvenir of Chillon, --Byron'spoem of "The Prisoner of Chillon, " in the French language, so thatBabette might read it. 

"The book may be good, " said Rudy, "but the finely combed fellow thatgave it to you does not please me!"

"He looked like a meal-bag, without meal in it!" said the miller andlaughed at his own wit. Rudy laughed and thought that this was verywell said. 

XI. 

THE COUSIN. 

When Rudy came to the mill, a couple of days afterwards, he found theyoung Englishman there. Babette had just cooked some trout for him andhad dressed them with parsley in order to make them appear moreinviting. That was assuredly not necessary. What did the Englishmanwant here? Did he come in order to have Babette entertain and waitupon him?

Rudy was jealous and that amused Babette; it rejoiced her, to learnthe feelings of his heart, the strong as well as the weak ones. 

Until now love had been a play and she played with Rudy's whole heart;yet he was her happiness, her life's thought, the noblest one! Themore gloomy he looked, the more her eyes laughed and she would haveliked to kiss the blonde Englishman with his golden whiskers, if shecould have succeeded by so doing, in making Rudy rush away furious. Then, yes then, she would have known how much he loved her. That wasnot right, that was not wise in little Babette; but she was onlynineteen! She did not reflect and still less did she think how herbehaviour towards the young Englishman might be interpreted; for itwas lighter and merrier than was seemly for the honourable and newlyaffianced daughter of the miller. 

The mill lay where the highway slopes--under the snow covered rockyheights--which are called here, in the language of the country"Diablerets" close to a rapid mountain stream, which was of a greyishwhite, like bubbling soap suds. A smaller stream, rushes forth fromthe rocks on the other side of the river, passes through an enclosed, broad rafter-made-gutter and turns the large wheel of the mill. Thegutter was so full of water, that it streamed over and offered a mostslippery way, to one who had the idea of crossing more quickly to themill; a young man had this idea--the Englishman. Guided by the light, which shone from Babette's window, he arrived in the evening, clothedin white, like a miller's boy; he had not learnt to climb and nearlytumbled head over heels into the stream, but escaped with wet sleevesand splashed pantaloons. He reached Babette's window, muddy and wetthrough, there he climbed into the old linden tree and imitated thescreech of an owl, for he could not sing like any other bird. Babetteheard it and peeped through the thin curtains, but when she remarkedthe white man and recognized him, her little heart fluttered withalarm, but also with anger. She hastily extinguished the light, fastened the windows securely and then she let him howl. 

If Rudy was in the mill it would have been dreadful, but Rudy was notthere; no, it was much worse, for he was below. There was loudconversation, angry words; there might be blows; yes, perhaps murder. 

Babette was terrified; she opened the window, called Rudy's name andbegged him to go; she said she would not suffer him to remain. 

"You will not suffer me to remain, " he exclaimed, "then it is apreconcerted thing! You were expecting other friends, friends betterthan myself; shame on you, Babette!"

"You are detestable, " said Babette, "I hate you!" and she wept. "Go!Go!"

"I have not deserved this!" said he, and departed. His cheeks burnedlike fire, his heart burned like fire. 

Babette threw herself on her bed and wept. 

"So much as I love you, Rudy, how can you believe ill of me!"

She was angry, very angry, and this was good for her; otherwise shewould have sorrowed deeply; but now she could sleep, and she slept thestrengthening sleep of youth. 

XII. 

THE EVIL POWERS. 

Rudy forsook Bex and went on his way home, in the fresh, cool air, upthe snow-covered mountain, where the Ice-Maiden ruled. The leafy treeswhich lay beneath him, looked like potato vines; fir-trees and bushesbecame less frequent; the alpine roses grew in the snow, which lay inlittle spots like linen put out to bleach. There stood a blue anemone, he crushed it with the barrel of his gun. 

Higher up two chamois appeared and Rudy's eyes gained lustre and histhoughts took a new direction; but he was not near enough to make agood shot; he ascended still higher, where only stiff grass growsbetween the blocks of stone; the chamois were quietly crossing thesnow field; he hurried hastily on; the fog was descending and hesuddenly stood before the steep rocky wall. The rain commenced tofall. 

He felt a burning thirst; heat in his head, cold in all his limbs; hegrasped his hunting flask, but it was empty; he had not thought offilling it when he rushed up the hill. He had never been ill, but nowhe was so; he was weary and had a desire to throw himself down tosleep, but everything was streaming with water. He endeavoured tocollect his ideas, but all objects danced before his eyes. Suddenly heperceived a newly built house leaning against the rocks and in thedoorway stood a young girl. Yes, it appeared to him that it was theschoolmaster's Annette, whom he had once kissed whilst dancing; but itwas not Annette and yet he had seen her before--perhaps inGrindelwald, on the evening when he returned from the shooting-festivalat Interlaken. 

"Where do you come from?" asked he. 

"I am at home, " said she, "I tend my flock!"

"Your flock, where do they pasture? Here are only cliffs and snow!"

"You have a ready answer, " said she and laughed; "below there is acharming meadow! There are my goats! I take good care of them! I losenone of them, what is mine, remains mine!"

"You are bold!" said Rudy. 

"So are you!" answered she. 

"Have you any milk? Do give me some, my thirst is intolerable!"

"I have something better than milk, " said she, "and you shall haveit! Travellers came yesterday with their guide, but they forgot aflask of wine, such as you have never tasted; they will not come forit, I shall not drink it, so drink you!"

She brought the wine, poured it in a wooden cup and handed it to Rudy. 

"That is good, " said he, "I have never drunk such a warming, such afiery wine!" His eyes beamed, a life, a glow came over him; all sorrowand oppression seemed to die away; gushing, fresh human nature stirreditself within him. 

"Why this is the schoolmaster's Annette, " exclaimed he, "give me akiss!"

"Yes, give me the beautiful ring, which you wear on your finger!"

"My engagement ring?"

"Just that one!" said the young girl and pouring wine into the cup, put it to his lips and he drank. Then the joy of life streamed in hisblood; the whole world seemed to belong to him. "Why torment one'sself? Every thing is made for our enjoyment and happiness! The streamof life is the stream of joy, and forgetfulness is felicity!" Helooked at the young girl, it was Annette and then again not Annette;still less, an enchanted phantom, as he had named her, when he met hernear Grindelwald. The girl on the mountain was fresh as the newlyfallen snow, blooming as the alpine rose and light as a kid; and ahuman being like Rudy. He wound his arm about her, looked in herstrange clear eyes, yes, only for a second--but was it spiritual lifeor was it death which flowed through him? Was he raised on high, ordid he sink into the deep, murderous ice-pit, deeper and ever deeper?He saw icy walls like bluish green glass, numberless clefts yawnedaround, and the water sounded as it dropped, like a chime of bells;it was pearly, clear and shone in bluish white flames. The Ice-Maidengave him a kiss, which made him shiver from head to foot and he gave acry of pain. He staggered and fell; it grew dark before his eyes, butsoon all became clear to him again; the evil powers had had theirsport with him. 

The alpine maiden had vanished, the mountain hut had vanished, thewater beat against the bare rocky walls and all around him lay snow. Rudy wet to the skin, trembled from cold and his ring had disappeared, his engagement ring, which Babette had given him. He tried to fire offhis rifle which lay near him in the snow but it missed. Humid cloudslay in the clefts like firm masses of snow and Vertigo watched for herpowerless prey; beneath him in the deep chasm it sounded as if ablock of the rock was rolling down and was endeavouring to crush andtear up all that met it in its fall. 

In the mill sat Babette and wept; Rudy had not been there for sixdays; he who had been so wrong; he who must beg her forgiveness, because she loved him with her whole heart. 

XIII. 

IN THE MILLER'S HOUSE. 

"What confusion!" said the parlour-cat to the kitchen-cat. 

"Now all is wrong between Rudy and Babette. She sits and weeps and hethinks no longer on her, I suppose. 

"I cannot bear it!" said the kitchen-cat. 

"Nor I, " said the parlour-cat, "but I shall not worry myself anylonger about it! Babette can take the red-whiskered one for a dearone, but he has not been here either, since he tried to get on theroof!"

Within and without, the evil powers ruled, and Rudy knew this, andreflected upon what had taken place both around and within him, whilstupon the mountain. Were those faces, or was all a feverish dream? Hehad never known fever or sickness before. Whilst he condemned Babette, he also condemned himself. He thought of the wild, wicked feelingswhich had lately possessed him. Could he confess everything toBabette? Every thought, which in the hour of temptation might havebecome a reality? He had lost her ring and by this loss had she wonhim back. Could she confess to him? It seemed as if his heart wouldbreak when he thought of her; so many recollections passed through hissoul. He saw her a lively, laughing, petulant child; many a lovingword, which she had said to him in the fullness of her heart, shotlike a sunbeam through his breast and soon all there was sunshine forBabette. 

She must be able to confess to him and she should do so. 

He came to the mill, he came to confession; and this commenced with akiss, and ended with the fact that Rudy was the sinner; his greatfault was, that he had doubted Babette's fidelity; yes, that wasindeed atrocious in him! Such mistrust, such violence could bring themboth into misfortune! Yes, most surely! Thereupon Babette preached hima little sermon, which much diverted her and became her charmingly; inone article Rudy was quite right; the god-mother's relation was ajackanapes! She should burn the book that he had given her, and notpossess the slightest object which could remind her of him. 

"Now it is all arranged, " said the parlour-cat, "Rudy is here again, they understand each other and that is a great happiness!"

"Last night, " said the kitchen-cat, "I heard the rats say that thegreatest happiness was to eat tallow candles, and to have abundance oftainted meat. Now who must one believe, the rats or the lovers?"

"Neither of them, " said the parlour-cat, "that is the surest way!"

The greatest happiness for Rudy and Babette was drawing near; theywere awaiting, so they said, their happiest day, their wedding day. 

But the wedding was not to be in the church of Bex, nor in themiller's house; the god-mother wished it to be solemnized near her, and the marriage ceremony was to take place in the beautiful littlechurch of Montreux. The miller insisted that her desire should befulfilled; he alone knew what the god-mother intended for the youngcouple; they were to receive a bridal present from her, which was wellworth so slight a concession. The day was appointed. They were toleave for Villeneuve, in time to arrive at Montreux early in themorning, and so enable the god-mother's daughters to dress the bride. 

"Then I suppose there will be a wedding here in the house, on thefollowing day, " said the parlour-cat, "otherwise, I would not give asingle mew for the whole thing!"

"There will be a feast here, " said the kitchen-cat, "the ducks areslain, the pigeons necks wrung, and a whole deer hangs on the wall. Myteeth itch just with looking on! To-morrow the journey commences!"

Yes, to-morrow! Rudy and Babette sat together for the last time in themill. 

Without was the alpine glow; the evening bells pealed; the daughtersof the Sun sang: "What is for the best will take place!"

XIV. 

THE VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 

The sun had gone down; the clouds lowered themselves into the Rhonevalley--between the high mountains; the wind blew from the south overthe mountains--an African wind, a Föhn, --which tore the cloudsasunder. When the wind had passed, all was still for an instant; theparted clouds hung in fantastic forms between the forest-grownmountains. Over the hastening Rhone, their shapes resembledsea-monsters of the primeval world, soaring eagles of the air andleaping frogs of the ditches--they seemed to sink into the rapidstream and to sail on the river, yet they still floated in the air. The stream carried away a pine tree, torn up by the roots; and thewater sent whirlpools ahead; this was Vertigo, with her attendants, and they danced in circles on the foaming stream. The moon shone onthe snow of the mountain-peaks; it lighted up the dark forest and thesingular white clouds; the peasants of the mountain, saw through theirwindow panes, the nightly apparitions and the spirits of the powers ofnature, as they sailed before the Ice-Maiden. She came from herglacier castle, she sat in a frail bark, a felled fir-tree; the waterof the glaciers carried her up the stream out to the main sea. 

"The wedding guests are coming!" was whizzed and sung in the air andin the water. 

Visions without and visions within!

Babette dreamt a wonderful dream. 

It appeared to her, as though she was married to Rudy, and had been sofor many years. He had gone chamois hunting and as she sat at home, the young Englishman with the golden whiskers was beside her; his eyeswere fiery, his words seemed endowed with magical power; he reachedher his hand and she was obliged to follow him. 

They flew from home. Steadily downwards. 

A weight lay upon her heart and it grew ever heavier. It was a sinagainst Rudy, a sin against God; suddenly she stood forsaken. Herclothes were torn by the thorns; her hair had grown grey; she lookedup in her sorrow and she saw Rudy on the edge of the rock. Shestretched her arms towards him, but she ventured neither to call, norto implore him; but she soon saw that it was not he himself, only hishunting coat and hat, which were hanging on his alpine staff, as thehunters are accustomed to place them, in order to deceive the chamois!Babette moaned in boundless anguish:

"Ah! would that I had died on my wedding day, my happiest day! Oh! myheavenly Father! That would have been a mercy, a life's happiness!Then we would have obtained, the best, that could have happened to us!No one knows his future!" In her impious sorrow, she threw herselfdown the steep precipice. It seemed as if a string broke, and asorrowful tone resounded. 

Babette awoke--the dream was at an end and obliterated; but she knewthat she had dreamt of something terrible, and of the youngEnglishman, whom she had neither seen, nor thought of, for manymonths. Was he perhaps in Montreux? Should she see him at herwedding? A slight shadow flitted over her delicate mouth, her browcontracted; but her smile soon returned; her eyes sparkled again; thesun shone so beautifully without, and to-morrow, yes to-morrow was herand Rudy's wedding day. 

Rudy had already arrived, when she came down stairs, and they soonleft for Villeneuve. They were so happy, the two, and the miller also;he laughed and was radiant with joy; he was a good father, an honestsoul. 

"Now we are the masters of the house!" said the parlour-cat. 

XV. 

CONCLUSION. 

It was not yet night, when the three joyous people reached Villeneuveand took their dinner. The miller seated himself in an arm-chair withhis pipe and took a little nap. The betrothed went out of the town armin arm, out on the carriage way, under the bush-grown rocks, to thedeep bluish-green lake. Sombre Chillon, with its grey walls and heavytowers, mirrored itself in the clear water; but still nearer lay thelittle island, with its three acacias, and it looked like a bouquet onthe lake. 

"How charming it must be there!" said Babette; she felt again thegreatest desire to visit it, and this wish could be immediatelyfulfilled; for a boat lay on the shore and the rope which fastened it, was easy to untie. As no one was visible, from whom they could askpermission, they took the boat without hesitation, for Rudy could rowwell. The oars skimmed like the fins of a fish, over the pliant water, which is so yielding and still so strong; which is all back to carry, but all mouth to engulph; which smiles--yes, is gentleness itself, andstill awakens terror--and is so powerful in destroying. The rapidcurrent soon brought the boat to the island; they stepped on land. There was just room enough for the two to dance. 

Rudy swung Babette three times around, and then they seated themselveson the little bench, under the acacias, looked into each other's eyes, held each other by the hand, and everything around them shone in thesplendour of the setting sun. The forests of fir-trees on themountains became of a pinkish lilac aspect, the colour of bloomingheath, and where the bare rocks were apparent, they glowed as if theywere transparent. The clouds in the sky were radiant with a red glow;the whole lake was like a fresh flaming rose leaf. As the shadowsarose to the snow-covered mountains of Savoy, they became dark blue, but the uppermost peak seemed like red lava and pointed out for amoment, the whole range of mountains, whose masses arose glowing fromthe bosom of the earth. 

It seemed to Rudy and Babette, that they had never seen such an alpineglow. The snow-covered Dent-du-Midi, had a lustre like the full moon, when it rises to the horizon. 

"So much beauty, so much happiness!" they both said. 

"Earth can give me no more, " said Rudy, "an evening hour like this isa whole life! How often have I felt as now, and thought that ifeverything should end suddenly, how happily have I lived! How blessedis this world! The day ended, a new one dawned and I felt that it wasstill more beautiful! How bountiful is our Lord, Babette!"

"I am so happy!" said she. 

"Earth can give me no more!" exclaimed Rudy. 

The evening bells resounded from the Savoy and Swiss mountains; thebluish-black Jura arose in golden splendour towards the west. 

"God give you that which is most excellent and best, Rudy!" saidBabette. 

"He will do that, " answered Rudy, "to-morrow I shall have it!To-morrow you will be entirely mine! Mine own, little, lovely wife!"

"The boat!" cried Babette at the same moment. 

The boat, which was to convey them back, had broken loose and wassailing from the island. 

"I will go for it!" said Rudy. He threw off his coat, drew off hisboots, sprang in the lake and swam towards the boat. 

The clear, bluish-grey water of the ice mountains, was cold and deep. Rudy gave but a single glance and it seemed as though he saw a goldring, rolling, shining and sporting--he thought on his lost engagementring--and the ring grew larger, widened into a sparkling circle andwithin it shone the clear glacier; all about yawned endless deepchasms; the water dropped and sounded like a chime of bells, and shonewith bluish-white flames. He saw in a second, what we must say in manylong words. Young hunters and young girls, men and women, who hadonce perished in the glacier, stood there living, with open eyes andsmiling mouth; deep below them chimed from buried towns the peal ofchurch bells; under the arches of the churches knelt the congregation;pieces of ice formed the organ pipes, and the mountain stream playedthe organ. On the clear transparent ground sat the Ice-Maiden; sheraised herself towards Rudy, kissed his feet, and the coldness ofdeath ran through his limbs and gave him an electric shock--ice andfire. He could not perceive the difference. 

"Mine, mine!" sounded around him and within him. 

"I kissed you, when you were young, kissed you on your mouth! Now Ikiss your feet, you are entirely mine!"

He vanished in the clear blue water. 

Everything was still; the church bells stopped ringing; the last tonesdied away with the splendour of the red clouds. 

"You are mine!" sounded in the deep. "You are mine!" sounded from onhigh, from the infinite. 

How happy to fly from love to love, from earth to heaven!

A string broke, a cry of grief was heard, the icy kiss of deathconquered; the prelude ended; so that the drama of life mightcommence, discord melted into harmony. --

Do you call this a sad story?

Poor Babette! For her it was a period of anguish. 

The boat drifted farther and farther. No one on shore knew that thelovers were on the island. The evening darkened, the clouds loweredthemselves; night came. She stood there, solitary, despairing, moaning. A flash of lightning passed over the Jura mountains, overSwitzerland and over Savoy. From all sides flash upon flash oflightning, clap upon clap of thunder, which rolled continuously manyminutes. At times the lightning was vivid as sunshine, and you coulddistinguish the grape vines; then all became black again in the darknight. The lightning formed knots, ties, zigzags, complicated figures;it struck in the lake, so that it lit it up on all sides; whilst thenoise of the thunder was made louder by the echo. The boat was drawnon shore; all living objects sought shelter. Now the rain streameddown. 

"Where can Rudy and Babette be in this frightful weather!" said themiller. 

Babette sat with folded hands, with her head in her lap, mute withsorrow, with screaming and bewailing. 

"In the deep water, " said she to herself, "he is as far down as theglaciers!"

She remembered what Rudy had related to her of his mother's death, ofhis preservation, and how he was withdrawn death-like, from the cleftsof the glacier. "The Ice-Maiden has him again!"

There was a flash of lightning, as dazzling as the sunlight on thewhite snow. Babette started up; at this instant, the sea rose like aglittering glacier; there stood the Ice-Maiden majestic, pale, blue, shining, and at her feet lay Rudy's corpse. "Mine!" said she, and thenall around was fog and night and streaming water. 

"Cruel!" moaned Babette, "why must he die, now that the day of ourhappiness approached. God! Enlighten my understanding! Enlighten myheart! I do not understand thy ways! Notwithstanding all thyomnipotence and wisdom, I still grope in the darkness. "

God enlightened her heart. A thought like a ray of mercy, her lastnight's dream in all its vividness flashed through her; she rememberedthe words which she had spoken: "the wish for the best for herself andRudy. "

"Woe is me! Was that the sinful seed in my heart? Did my dreamforetell my future life? Is all this misery for my salvation? Me, miserable one!"

Lamenting, sat she in the dark night. In the solemn stillness, soundedRudy's last words; the last ones he had uttered: "Earth has no morehappiness to give me!" She had heard it in the fullness of her joy, she heard it again in all the depths of her sorrow. 

 * * * * *

A couple of years have passed since then. The lake smiles, the coastsmiles; the vine branches are filled with ripe grapes; the steamboatsglide along with waving flags and the pleasure boats float over thewatery mirror, with their two expanded sails like white butterflies. The railroad to Chillon is opened; it leads into the Rhone valley;strangers alight at every station; they arrive with their red coveredguide books and read of remarkable sights which are to be seen. Theyvisit Chillon, they stand upon the little island, with its threeacacias--out on the lake--and they read in the book about thebetrothed ones, who sailed over one evening in the year 1856;--of thedeath of the bridegroom, and: "it was not till the next morning, thatthe despairing shrieks of the bride were heard on the coast!"

The book does not tell, however, of Babette's quiet life with herfather; not in the mill, where strangers now dwell, but in thebeautiful house, near the railway station. There she looks from thewindow many an evening and gazes over the chestnut trees, upon thesnow mountains, where Rudy once climbed. She sees in the evening hoursthe alpine glow--the children of the Sun encamp themselves above, andrepeat the song of the wanderer, whose mantle the whirlwind tore off, and carried away: "it took the covering but not the man. "

There is a rosy hue on the snow of the mountains; there is a rosy huein every heart, where the thought dwells, that: "God always gives usthat which is best for us!" but it is not always revealed to us, as itonce happened to Babette in her dream. 

The Butterfly. 

The butterfly wished to procure a bride for himself--of course, one ofthe flowers--a pretty little one. He looked about him. Each one satquietly and thoughtfully on her stalk, as a young maiden should sit, when she is not affianced; but there were many of them, and it was adifficult matter to choose amongst them. The butterfly could not makeup his mind; so he flew to the daisy. The French call her_Marguerite_; they know that she can tell fortunes, and she does thiswhen lovers pluck off leaf after leaf and ask her at each one aquestion about the beloved one: "How does he love me?--With all hisheart?--With sorrow?--Above all?--Can not refrain from it?--Quitesecretly?--A little bit?--Not at all?"--or questions to the sameimport. Each one asks in his own language. The butterfly flew towardsher and questioned her; he did not pluck off the leaves, but kissedeach separate one, thinking that by so doing, he would make himselfmore agreeable to the good creature. 

"Sweet Margaret Daisy, " said he, "of all the flowers you are thewisest woman! You can prophesy! Tell me, shall I obtain this one orthat one? Which one? If I but know this, I can fly to the charming oneat once, and pay my court!"

Margaret did not answer. She could not bear to be called a _woman_, for she was a young girl, and when one is a young girl, one is not awoman. 

He asked again, he asked a third time, but as she did not answer asingle word, he questioned her no more and flew away without furtherparley, intent on his courtship. 

It was early spring time, and there was an abundance of snow-drops andcrocuses. "They are very neat, " said the butterfly, "pretty littleconfirmed ones, but a little green!" He, like all young men looked atolder girls. 

From thence he flew to the anemones; but he found them a little toosentimental; the tulips, too showy; the broom, not of a good family;the linden blossoms, too small--then they had so many relations; as tothe apple blossoms, why to look at them you would think them ashealthy as roses, but to-day they blossom and to-morrow, if the windblows, they drop off; a marriage with them would be too short. The peablossom pleased him most, she was pink and white, she was pure andrefined and belonged to the housewifely girls that look well, andstill can make themselves useful in the kitchen. He had almostconcluded to make love to her, when he saw hanging near to her, apea-pod with its white blossom. "Who is that?" asked he. "That is mysister, " said the pea blossom. 

"How now, is that the way you look when older?" This terrified thebutterfly and he flew away. 

The honeysuckles were hanging over the fence--young ladies with longfaces and yellow skins--but he did not fancy their style of beauty. Yes, but which did he like? Ask him!

The spring passed, the summer passed, and then came the autumn. Theflowers appeared in their most beautiful dresses, but of what availwas this? The butterfly's fresh youthful feelings had vanished. Inold age, the heart longs for fragrance, and dahlias and gillyflowersare scentless. So the butterfly flew to the mint. "She has no flowerat all, but she is herself a flower, for she is fragrant from head tofoot and each leaf is filled with perfume. I shall take her!"

But the mint stood stiff and still, and at last said: "Friendship--butnothing more! I am old and you are old! We can live very well for oneanother, but to marry? No! Do not let us make fools of ourselves inour old age. "

So the butterfly obtained no one. 

The butterfly remained a bachelor. 

Many violent and transient showers came late in the autumn; the windblew so coldly down the back of the old willow trees, that it crackedwithin them. It did not do to fly about in summer garments, for evenlove itself would then grow cold. The butterfly however preferred notto fly out at all; he had by chance entered a door-way, and there wasfire in the stove--yes, it was just as warm there, as insummer-time;--there he could live. "Life is not enough, " said he, "onemust have sunshine, liberty and a little flower!"

He flew against the window-panes, was seen, was run through by a pinand placed in a curiosity-box; one could not do more for him. 

"Now I also am seated on a stalk like a flower, " said the butterfly, "it is not so comfortable after all! But it is as well as beingmarried, for then one is tied down!" He consoled himself with this. 

"What a wretched consolation!" said the flower, that grew in the potin the room. 

"One can not entirely trust to flowers that grow in pots, " thoughtthe butterfly, "they have too much intercourse with men. "

The Psyche. 

A large star beams in the dawn of morning in the red sky--theclearest star of the morning--its rays tremble upon the white wall, asif they wished to write down and relate, the scenes which they hadwitnessed during many centuries. 

Listen to one of these stories!

A short time ago--(this _not long ago_ is with us men--centuries)--myrays followed a young artist; it was in the realm of the Pope, in thecity of the world, in Rome. Many changes have been made, but theimperial palace, was, as it is to-day, a ruin; between the overthrownmarble columns and over the ruined bath-rooms, whose walls were stilldecorated with gold, grew fig and laurel trees. The Colosseum was aruin; the church bells rang, the incense arose and processions passedthrough the streets with tapers and gorgeous canopies. The Church washoly, and art was lofty and holy also. In Rome dwelt Raphael, thegreatest painter of the world, here also dwelt Michael Angelo, thegreatest sculptor of the age; even the Pope did homage to them both, and honoured them with his visits. Art was recognized, honoured andrewarded. All greatness and excellence is not seen and recognized. 

In a little narrow street, stood an old house, which had once been atemple; here dwelt a young artist; he was poor, he was unknown; it istrue that he had young friends, artists also, young in feelings, inhopes, and in thoughts. They told him, that he was rich in talentsand excellence but that he needed confidence in himself. He was neversatisfied with his work and either destroyed all that he modeled orleft it unfinished; this is not the proper course to adopt, if onewould be known, appreciated and live. 

"You are a dreamer, " said they, "this is your misfortune! You have notyet lived, you have not inhaled life in large healthy draughts, youhave not yet enjoyed it. One should do this in youth and become a man!Look at the great master Raphael whom the Pope honours and the worldadmires, --he takes wine and bread with him. "

"He dines with the baker's wife, the pretty Fornarina!" said Angelo, one of the merry young friends. 

Yes, they all appealed to his good sense and to his youth. 

They wished to have the young artist join them in their merry-makings, in their extravagances and in their mad tricks; he would do so for ashort time, for his blood was warm, his imagination strong; he couldtake his part in their merry conversation, and laugh as loudly as theothers; and yet "the merry life of Raphael, " as they named it, vanished from him like the morning mist, when he saw the godlikelustre which shone forth from the paintings of the great masters, orwhen he stood in the Vatican and beheld the forms of beauty, which theold sculptors had fashioned from blocks of marble, centuries ago. Hisbreast swelled, he felt something so lofty, so holy, so elevatedwithin him, yes, something so great and good, that he longed to createand chisel like forms from marble blocks. He desired to giveexpression to the feelings which agitated his heart; but how and inwhat shape? The soft clay allowed itself to be modeled into beautifulfigures by his fingers, but on the following day, dissatisfied, hedestroyed all he had created. 

One day he passed by one of the rich palaces, of which Rome has somany; he stood a moment at the large open entrance, and gazed into alittle garden, full of the most beautiful roses, which was surroundedby archways, decorated with paintings. Large, white callas, with theirgreen leaves, sprouted forth from marble shells, into which splashedclear water; a form glided by, a young girl, the daughter of thisprincely house, so elegant, so light, so charming! He had never seenso lovely a woman. Hold! yes, once, one made by Raphael, a painting ofPsyche, in one of the palaces of Rome. There she was but painted, here she breathed and moved. 

She lived in his thoughts and in his heart; he went home to his poorlodgings and formed a Psyche out of clay; it was the rich, young Romangirl, the princely woman, and he gazed at his work with satisfaction, for the first time. This had a signification--it was _She_. When hisfriends looked upon it, they exclaimed with joy, that this work was arevelation of his artistic greatness, which they had alwaysrecognized, but which now should be recognized by the whole world. 

Clay is natural, flesh like, but it has not the whiteness, thedurability of marble; the Psyche must obtain life from the block ofmarble--and he had the most precious piece of marble. It had been theproperty of his parents, and had been lying many years, in the courtyard; bits of broken bottles, remains of artichokes were heaped overit and it was soiled, but its interior was white as the mountain snow;the Psyche should rise forth from it. 

One day, it so happened--it is true, that the clear stars do notrelate it, for they did not see it, but we know it--that adistinguished Roman party, came to view the young artist's work, ofwhich they had casually heard. Who were the distinguished visitors?Poor young man! All too happy young man, one may call him also. Herein his room stood the young girl herself--with what a smile--when herfather said: "You are that, living!" One cannot picture the look, onecannot render the look, the strange look with which she glanced at theyoung artist; it was a look which elevated, ennobled and--destroyed. 

"The Psyche must be executed in marble!" said the rich man. This was aword of life, for the dead clay and for the heavy block of marble; itwas also a word of life for the young man who was overcome by emotion. "I will buy it, as soon as the work is completed!" said the princelyman. 

It seemed as though a new era had dawned in the poor work-room;occupation, life and gayety, lighted it up. The beaming morning starsaw how the work progressed. Even the clay had been endowed with asoul, since _she_ had been there, and he bent entranced over the wellknown features. 

"Now I know what life is, " he exclaimed with delight, "it is love! itis the elevation of the heart to the divine, it is rapture for thebeautiful! What my friends call life and enjoyment, is perishable, like bubbles in the fermenting lees, not the pure, heavenly wine ofthe altar, the consecration of life!"

The marble block was erected, the chisel hewed away large pieces; thelabourer's part was done, marks and points placed, until little bylittle, the stone became a body, a shape of beauty--the Psyche--ascharming as was the woman made by God. The massive stone became asoaring, dancing, airy, light and graceful Psyche, with a heavenly, innocent smile, the smile that had been mirrored in the youngsculptor's heart. 

The star, in the rosy-tinted morning saw, and partly understood whatwas agitating the mind of the young man; it understood as well, thevarying colour of his checks and the glance of his eye, whilst hecreated, as though inspired by God. 

"You are a master like those in the days of the Greeks, " said hisenchanted friends, "the world will soon admire your Psyche!"

"My Psyche, " he repeated, "mine, yes, that she must be! I am also anartist like the great departed ones! God has granted gifts of mercy tome, and has elevated me to the highly born!"

He sank, weeping, on his knees and offered up his thanks to God--butforgot him again for her, for her portrait in marble, for the Psycheform, that stood before him, as though cut out of snow, blushing, inthe morning sun. 

He should see her, the living, floating one, in reality; she, whosewords sounded like music. He would himself carry the tidings, that themarble Psyche was completed, to the rich palace. He arrived, passedthrough the open court-yard, where the water splashed from dolphin'smouths into marble shells, where callas bloomed and fresh rosesblossomed. He stepped into the large, lofty hall, whose walls andceilings were gorgeous with brilliant colours, with paintings andarmorial bearings. Well dressed and haughty servants, holding up theirheads, (like sleigh horses with their bells, ) were pacing up and down;some of them had even stretched themselves out comfortably andinsolently on the carved wooden benches; they appeared to be themasters of the house. He named his business, and was conducted up themarble steps, which were covered with soft carpets. On each side stoodstatues. Then he came to richly decorated apartments, hung withpaintings and with mosaic floors. 

This pomp, this splendour made him breathe a little heavily, but hesoon felt reassured; for the old prince, received him kindly, almostcordially. After they had spoken, as he was taking leave, he beggedhim to visit the young Signora, for she also wished to see him. Theservants led him through magnificent chambers and corridors to herapartments, of which she was the glory and splendour. 

She spoke with him! No Miserere, no church song could have melted theheart more, or have more elevated the soul, than did the music of hervoice. He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips--no rose is sosoft, but a fire proceeds from this rose--a fire streams through himand his breast heaves; words streamed from his lips, but he knew notwhat he said. Does the crater know that it throws forth burning lava?He told her his love. She stood there, surprised, insulted, proud, yes, scornful; with an expression on her face as though a damp, clammy frog had suddenly touched her. Her cheeks coloured, her lipsgrew pale, her eyes were on fire, and still black as the darkness ofnight. 

"Frantic creature! Away, away!" said she, as she turned her back uponhim. Her face of beauty seemed turned to stone, like unto the Medusa'shead with its serpent locks. He descended to the street, a weak, lifeless thing; he entered his room like a night-walker, and in therage of his grief, he seized his hammer, brandished it high in the airand sought to destroy the beautiful marble form. He did notobserve--so excited was he--that Angelo, his friend, stood near him, and arrested his arm with a firm grasp. 

"Have you become mad? What would you do?" They struggled with eachother. Angelo was the stronger, and with a deep drawn breath, hethrew the young artist on a chair. 

"What has occurred?" asked Angelo, "Collect yourself! Speak!"

What could he say? What could he tell? As Angelo could not seize thethread of his discourse, he let it drop. 

"Your blood grows thick with this eternal dreaming! Be human, likeothers and live not in the clouds! Drink, until you become slightlyintoxicated, then you will sleep well! The young girl from theCampagna, is as beautiful as the princess in the marble palace, theyare both daughters of Eve, and can not be distinguished one from theother in Paradise! Follow your Angelo! I am your good angel, the angelof your life! A time will come when you are old, when the body willdwindle and some beautiful sunshiny day, when everything laughs andrejoices, you will lie like a withered straw! I do not believe whatthe priests say, that there is a life beyond the grave! It is a prettyfancy, a fairy tale for children, delightful to think upon. I do notlive in imagination, but in reality! Come with me! Become a man!"

He drew him away, he could do this now, for there was a fire in theyoung artist's blood, a change in his soul; an ardent desire to tearhimself away from all his wonted ways, from all accustomed thoughts;to forget his old self--and to-day he followed Angelo. 

In the suburbs, lay an osteria, which was much frequented by artists;it was built in the ruins of a bathing chamber. Amongst the darkshining foliage, hung large yellow lemons which covered a portion ofthe old reddish-yellow wall. The osteria was a deep vault, almostlike a hollow in the ruins; within, a lamp burned before the image ofthe Madonna; a large fire flamed on the hearth, for here they roasted, cooked and prepared the dishes for the guests. Without, under thelemon and laurel trees, stood tables ready set. 

They were received merrily and rejoicingly by their friends; they atelittle and drank much and became gay; they sang, and played on theguitar; the Saltarello sounded and the dance began. Two Roman girls, models of the young artists, joined in the dance and merriment; twopretty Bacchante! They had no Psyche forms, they were not delicatebeautiful roses, but fresh, healthy flaming pinks. 

How warm it was on this day, even warm at sundown! Fire in the blood, fire in the air, fire in every glance. The air swam in gold androses, life was gold and roses. 

"Now you have at last joined us! Allow yourself to be carried away bythe current within and without you!"

"I never felt so well and joyous before!" said the young artist. "Youare right, you are all of you right. I was a fool, a dreamer; manbelongs to reality and not to fancy!"

The young man left the osteria, in the clear starry evening, with songand tinkling guitars, and passed through the narrow streets. Thedaughters of the Campagna, the two flaming pinks, were in their train. 

In Angelo's room, the voices sounded more suppressed but not lessfiery, amongst the scattered sketches, the outlines, the glowing, voluptuous paintings; amongst the drawings on the floor there was manya sketch of vigorous beauty, like unto the daughters of the Campagna, yet they themselves were much more beautiful. The six-armed lampglowed brightly, and the human forms warmed and shone like gods. 

"Apollo! Jupiter! I elevate myself to your heaven, to your glory!Methinks, that the flower of my life has unfolded within my heart!"Yes, it did unfold--it withered and fell to pieces; a stunning, loathsome vapour arose, dazzling the sight, benumbing the thoughts, extinguishing his sensual, fiery emotions, and all was dark. He wenthome, sat down on his bed, and thought. "Fie!" sounded from his lips, from the bottom of his heart. "Miserable wretch! away! away!"--and hesighed sorrowfully. 

"Away! Away!" These, her words, the words of the living Psyche, weighed upon him, and flowed from his lips. He bowed his head uponthe pillows, his thoughts became confused and he slept. 

At the dawn of day he started up. --What was this? Was it a dream? Wereher words, the visit to the osteria, the evening with the purple redpinks of the Campagna but a dream?--No, all was reality; he had notknown this before. 

The clear star beamed in the purple-tinted air, its rays fell uponhim, and upon the marble Psyche; he trembled whilst he contemplatedthe image of immortality, his glance even appeared impure to him. Hethrew a covering over it, he touched it once more in order to veil itsform, but he could not view his work. 

Still, sombre, buried in his own meditations, he sat there the wholeday; he took no heed of what passed around him, no one knew what wasagitating this human heart. Days passed by, weeks passed by; thenights were the longest. One morning, the twinkling star saw him risefrom his couch--pale--trembling with fever; he walked to the marblestatue, lifted the cover, gazed upon his work with a sorrowful, deep, long look, and then almost sinking under the weight, he drew thestatue into the garden. There was a sunken, dried-up well, within it, into which he lowered the Psyche, threw earth upon it and covered thefresh grave with small sticks and nettles. 

"Away! Away, " was the short funereal service. 

The star in the rosy red atmosphere saw this, and two heavy tearstrembled on the deathly pale cheeks of the fever sick one--sick untodeath, as they called him. 

The lay brother Ignatius came to him as a friend and as a physician. He came, and with the consoling words of religion, he spoke of thepeace and happiness of the church, of the sins of man, of the mercyand peace of God. 

The words fell like warm sun beams on the moist, fermenting ground;they dispersed and cleared away the misty clouds, from the troubledthoughts which had held possession of him; he gazed upon his pastlife; everything had been a failure, a deception--yes, _had been_. Artwas an enchantress, that but leads us into vanity, into earthlypleasures. We become false to ourselves, false to our friends, falseto our God. The serpent speaks ever in us: "Taste and thou shaltbecome like unto God. "

Now, for the first time, he appeared to understand himself, to havediscovered the road to truth, to peace. 

In the church was God's light and brightness, in the monk's cell wasfound that peace, which enables man to obtain eternal bliss. 

Brother Ignatius supported him in these thoughts, and the decision wasfirmly made--a worldling became a servant of the church;--the youngartist took leave of the world, and entered the cloister. 

How joyfully, how cordially the brothers greeted him! How festive theordination! It seemed to him that God was in the sunshine of thechurch, and beamed within it, from the holy pictures and from theshining cross. He stood in the evening sunset, in his little cell, andopened his window and gazed in the spring-time over old Rome--with herbroken temples, her massive, but dead Colosseum; her blooming acacias, her flourishing evergreens, her fragrant roses, her shining lemonsand oranges, her palm trees fanned by the breeze--and felt touched andsatisfied. The quiet, open Campagna extended to the blue snow-toppedmountains, which appeared to be painted on the air. Everythingbreathed beauty and peace. The whole--a dream!

Yes, the world here was a dream, and the dream ruled the hours andreturned to hours again. But the life of a cloister is a life of many, many long years. 

Man is naturally impure and he felt this! What flames were these, thatat times glowed through him? Was it the power of the Evil One, thatcaused these wild thoughts to rage constantly within him? He punishedhis body, but without effect. What portion of his mind was that, whichwound itself around him, pliable as a serpent, and which crept abouthis conscience under a loving cloak and consoled him! The saints prayfor us, the holy Virgin prays for us, Jesus himself gave his blood forus!

Was it a childlike feeling, or the levity of youth, that had inducedhim to give himself up to grace, and which made him feel elevatedabove so many? For had he not cast away the vanity of the world, washe not a son of the church?

One day, after many years, he met Angelo, who recognized him. 

"Man, " said he, "yes, it is you! Are you happy now? You have sinnedagainst God, and cast his gifts of mercy away from you; you havegambled away your vocation for this world. Read the parable of theentrusted pledge. The Master who related it, spoke but truth! Whathave you won and found after all? Do not make a dream life foryourself! Make a religion for yourself, as all do. Suppose all is buta dream, a fancy, a beautiful thought!"

"Get thee from behind me, Satan!" said the monk, and forsook Angelo. 

"It is a devil, a devil personified! I saw him to-day, " murmured themonk, "I reached him but a finger, and he took my whole hand! No, "sighed he, "the wickedness is in myself; it is also in this man, buthe is not tormented by it; he walks with elevated brow, he has hisenjoyment; I but clutch at the consolation of the church for mywelfare! But if this is only consolation! If all here consists ofbeautiful thoughts and but resemble those which beguiled me in theworld? Is it but a deception like unto the beauty of the red eveningclouds and like unto the blue wave-like beauty of the distantmountains! Seen near, how changed! Eternity, art thou like unto thegreat infinite, calm ocean, which beckons to us, calls us, fills uswith presentiments, and if we venture upon it, we sink, wevanish--die--cease to be?--

"Deceit! away! away!"

He sat tearless on his hard couch, desolate, kneeling--before whom?Before the stone cross which was placed in the wall? No, habit alonecaused his body to bend. 

The deeper he read within himself, the darker all appeared to him. "Nothing within, nothing without! Life thrown away!" This thought, crushed him--expunged him. 

"I dare confide to none the doubts which consume me! My prisoner is mysecret and if it escape I am lost!"

The power of God, wrestled within him. 

"Lord! Lord!" he exclaimed in his despair, "be merciful, give mefaith! I cast thy gifts of mercy from me and my vocation for thisworld! I prayed for strength and thou hast not given it to me. Immortality! The Psyche in my breast--away! away!--Must it be buriedlike yon Psyche, the light of my life? Never to arise from the grave!"

The star beamed in the rosy red atmosphere, the star which will belost and will vanish, whilst the soul lives and emits light. Itstrembling ray fell upon the white wall, but it spoke not of the gloryof God, of the grace, the eternal love which beams in the breast ofevery believer. 

"Can the Psyche never die?--Can one live with consciousness?--Can theimpossible take place?--Yes! Yes! My being is inexplicable. Inconceivable art thou, oh Lord! A wonder of might, glory and love!"

His eyes beamed, his eyes closed. The peal of the church bells passedover the dead one. He was laid in holy ground and his ashes mingledwith the dust of strangers. 

Years afterwards, his bones were exhumed and stood in a niche in thecloisters, as had stood those of the dead monks before him; they weredressed in the brown cowl, a rosary of beads placed in his hand, thesun shone without, incense perfumed within, and mass was read. --

Years rolled by. 

The bones and legs fell asunder. They stood up the skulls, and withthem, formed the whole outside wall of a church. There he stood in theburning sunshine; there were so many, many dead, they did not knowtheir names, much less his. 

See, something living moved in the sunshine in the two eye sockets;what was that? A brilliant lizard was running about in the hollowskull, slipping in and out of the large, empty sockets. This was nowthe life in the head, where once elevated thoughts, brilliant dreams, love for art and the magnificent had been rife; from which hot tearshad rolled and where the hope of immortality had lived. The lizardleaped out and disappeared; the skull crumbled away and became dust todust. --

Centuries passed. Unchanged, the star, clear and large, beamed on asit had done for centuries. The atmosphere shone with a red rosy hue, fresh as roses, flaming as blood. 

Where there had once been a little street with the remains of an oldtemple, now stood a convent; a grave was dug in the garden, for ayoung nun had died, and she was to be lowered in the earth at thisearly hour of the morning. The spade struck against a stone whichappeared of a dazzling whiteness--the white marble came forth--itrounded into a shoulder;--they used the spade with care, and a femalehead became visible--butterfly wings. They raised from the grave, inwhich the young nun was to be laid on this rosy morning, a gloriouslybeautiful Psyche-form, chiseled from white marble. 

"How magnificent! How perfect a master work!" they said. "Who can theartist be?" He was unknown. None knew him, save the clear star, whichhad been beaming for centuries; it knew the course of his earthlylife, his trials, his failings; it knew that he was: "but a man!" Buthe was dead, dispersed as dust must and shall be; but the result ofhis best efforts, the glory which pointed out the divine within him, the Psyche, which never dies, which surpasses in brightness, allearthly renown, this remained, was seen, acknowledged, admired andbeloved. 

The clear morning star in the rosy tinted sky, cast its most radiantbeams upon the Psyche, and upon the smile of happiness about the mouthand eyes of the admiring ones, who beheld the soul, chiseled in themarble block. 

That which is earthly passes away, and is forgotten; only the star inthe infinite knows of it. That which is heavenly surpasses renown; forrenown, fame and earthly glory die away, but--the Psyche livesforever!

The Snail and the Rose-Tree. 

A hedge of hazel-nut bushes encircled the garden; without was fieldand meadow, with cows and sheep; but in the centre of the garden stooda rose-tree, and under it sat a snail--she had much within her, shehad herself. 

"Wait, until my time comes, " said she, "I shall accomplish somethingmore than putting forth roses, bearing nuts, or giving milk, like thecows and sheep!"

"I expect something fearfully grand, " said the rose-tree, "may I askwhen it will take place?"

"I shall take my time, " said the snail, "you are in too great a hurry, and when this is the case, how can one's expectations be fulfilled?"

The next year the snail lay in about the same spot under therose-tree, which put forth buds and developed roses, ever fresh, evernew. The snail half crept forth, stretched out its feelers and drewitself in again. 

"Everything looks as it did a year ago! No progress has been made; therose-tree still bears roses; it does not get along any farther!"

The summer faded away, the autumn passed, the rose-tree constantlybore flowers and buds, until the snow fell, and the weather was rawand damp. The rose-tree bent itself towards the earth, the snail creptin the earth. 

A new year commenced; the roses came out, and the snail came out. 

"Now you are an old rose bush, " said the snail, "you will soon dieaway. You have given the world everything that you had in you; whetherthat be much or little is a question, upon which I have not time toreflect. But it is quite evident, that you have not done the slightestthing towards your inward developement; otherwise I suppose thatsomething different would have sprung from you. Can you answer this?You will soon be nothing but a stick! Can you understand what I say?"

"You startle me, " said the rose-tree, "I have never thought uponthat!"

"No, I suppose that you have never meddled much with thinking! Can youtell me why you blossom? And how it comes to pass? How? Why?"

"No, " said the rose-tree, "I blossom with pleasure because I couldnot do otherwise. The sun was so warm, the air so refreshing, I drankthe clear dew and the fortifying rain; I breathed, I lived! A strengthcame to me from the earth, a strength came from above, I felt ahappiness, ever new, ever great and therefore I must blossom ever, that was my life, I could not do otherwise!"

"You have led a very easy life!" said the snail. 

"Certainly, everything has been given to me, " said the rose-tree, "butstill more has been given to you. You are one of those meditative, pensive, profound natures, one of the highly gifted, that astound thewhole world!"

"I have assuredly no such thought in my mind, " said the snail, "theworld is nothing to me! What have I to do with the world? I haveenough with myself, and enough in myself!"

"But should we not all, here on earth, give the best part of us toothers? Offer what we can!--It is true, that I have only givenroses--but you? You who have received so much, what have you given tothe world? What do you give her?"

"What I have given? What I give? I spit upon her! She is good fornothing! I have nought to do with her. Put forth roses, you can do nomore! Let the hazel bushes bear nuts! Let the cows and sheep givemilk; they have each their public, I have mine within myself! I retirewithin myself, and there I remain. The world is nothing to me!"

And thereupon the snail withdrew into her house and closed it. 

"That is so sad, " said the rose-tree, "with the best will, I cannotcreep in, I must ever spring out, spring forth in roses. The leavesdrop off and are blown away by the wind. Yet, I saw one of the roseslaid in the hymn-book of the mother of the family; one of my roses wasplaced upon the breast of a charming young girl, and one was kissedwith joy by a child's mouth. This did me so much good, it was a realblessing! That is my recollection, my life!"

And the rose-tree flowered in innocence, and the snail satindifferently in her house. The world was nothing to her. 

And years passed away. The snail became earth to earth and therose-tree became earth to earth; the remembrances in the hymn-bookwere also blown away--but new rose-trees bloomed in the garden, newsnails grew in the garden; they crept in their houses and spat. --Theworld is nothing to them. 

Shall we read the story of the past again? It will not be different. 

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